Sarah Avery (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dr_pretentious) wrote2005-01-21 01:44 am
dr_pretentious) wrote2005-01-21 01:44 am
It's 2:00. Do you know where your President is?
My day at the Inaugural parade was downright uneventful, considering the things I'm reading in the Washington Post online. I did not see the protesters who threw a lamp post at police. I did not see the police who responded to protesters with pepper spray. I did see that the security presence was as overwhelming in terms of sheer numbers as the newspapers say it was. Police officers were lined up shoulder to shoulder down the whole length of the parade route. There were snipers on every rooftop along Pennsylvania Avenue, as far up and down as I could see. From time to time, I'd notice some nondescript spectator wearing a high-end earpiece like the ones you see on secret service agents and carrying a bag much larger than the ones that had been permitted through the checkpoints. In my youth, I spent enough years living on army bases that I'm not fazed by a reasonable presence of armed guards, but this was downright surreal.
Another thing I saw was that Inaugurations bring out the megalomaniacs on both sides of the divide. The few gates in the barricades seem to have been flashpoints for clashes of megalomaniacs, amateur and professional. I spent about two hours in line for the security checkpoint at the gate at 7th and Indiana Avenue. The crypto-Stalinists from ANSWER were there, haranguing the crowd of people standing in line to get through to the parade ground. All vulgar bombast, no content--which is a damned shame, because there's so much that could have been said.
My embarrassment for the megalomaniacs on the left was slightly ameliorated by the sporadic arrivals of megalomaniacs from the right. The only people who actually shoved their fellow citizens while waiting in line to go through security checkpoints all happened to be heavily made up women wearing fur coats and large pieces of jewelry that proclaimed their party allegiance--in one case, a rhinestone-studded red-white-and-blue GOP elephant broach nearly as long as the palm of my hand. These women were such self-caricatures, I wouldn't have believed in their existence, had anyone else told me about them, but there they were. One of the fur coat women actually chastised those of us who were waiting our turn patiently: "If everyone in this line would just start moving, we'd all be through." I pointed out to her that even if we all started pushing, the people checking the bags still wouldn't be able to go any faster. But her boyfriend was an aide to an important Republican Congressman, and they were important people, so they said, with tickets, which he pulled out to brandish. So a whole bunch of other people with tickets for seating pulled them out to brandish them right back. When they'd heard enough people say, "Wait in line like everybody else," the ignominious pair slunk away, presumably to try shoving their way forward at some other checkpoint. The more courteous Bush supporters in the line were mortified.
The weather was warmer than I'd been led to expect, and there was an open Starbucks on the inside of the barricaded zone, so no hypothermia this time. (Though six hours later, when the parade was finally over, I remembered my friend Erica's spoof marching chant from the end of the march against the war in NYC: What do want? A hot bath! When do we want it? Now!)
The thing I'd come for was barely reportable. There was a president in the parade; I turned my back on him. I didn't get a good look at what proportion of the spectators around me were booing the president, since I was far enough from the parade that turning my back on Bush meant turning my back on the rest of the spectacle, too. The imprecations drowned out the cheers, at least in the stretch of Pennsylvania Avenue by the Navy Memorial.
The rest of the parade was a long, tedious procession of stalwart servicepeople and shivering young marching bands, mostly from Texas. The marching band boys wore their pseudo-military uniforms and scowled as if practicing for their turn in Iraq. The girls in their frilly majorette uniforms marched bare-legged in the 35 degree chill. Pretty demoralizing, but then I've never been big on parades. I'm not entirely sure why I stayed to see it to the end. I'd already done my civic duty.
For the folks who could not go to the Inauguration who asked me to turn my back on the President for their sakes, too, I can only report that I did so with deeply felt intent. If I'd turned my back one full revolution for every person who made this strange request of me, Bush would have had to stop his motorcade to wait through a good half-hour of pirouettes. And wouldn't that have been a sight worth seeing?
Another thing I saw was that Inaugurations bring out the megalomaniacs on both sides of the divide. The few gates in the barricades seem to have been flashpoints for clashes of megalomaniacs, amateur and professional. I spent about two hours in line for the security checkpoint at the gate at 7th and Indiana Avenue. The crypto-Stalinists from ANSWER were there, haranguing the crowd of people standing in line to get through to the parade ground. All vulgar bombast, no content--which is a damned shame, because there's so much that could have been said.
My embarrassment for the megalomaniacs on the left was slightly ameliorated by the sporadic arrivals of megalomaniacs from the right. The only people who actually shoved their fellow citizens while waiting in line to go through security checkpoints all happened to be heavily made up women wearing fur coats and large pieces of jewelry that proclaimed their party allegiance--in one case, a rhinestone-studded red-white-and-blue GOP elephant broach nearly as long as the palm of my hand. These women were such self-caricatures, I wouldn't have believed in their existence, had anyone else told me about them, but there they were. One of the fur coat women actually chastised those of us who were waiting our turn patiently: "If everyone in this line would just start moving, we'd all be through." I pointed out to her that even if we all started pushing, the people checking the bags still wouldn't be able to go any faster. But her boyfriend was an aide to an important Republican Congressman, and they were important people, so they said, with tickets, which he pulled out to brandish. So a whole bunch of other people with tickets for seating pulled them out to brandish them right back. When they'd heard enough people say, "Wait in line like everybody else," the ignominious pair slunk away, presumably to try shoving their way forward at some other checkpoint. The more courteous Bush supporters in the line were mortified.
The weather was warmer than I'd been led to expect, and there was an open Starbucks on the inside of the barricaded zone, so no hypothermia this time. (Though six hours later, when the parade was finally over, I remembered my friend Erica's spoof marching chant from the end of the march against the war in NYC: What do want? A hot bath! When do we want it? Now!)
The thing I'd come for was barely reportable. There was a president in the parade; I turned my back on him. I didn't get a good look at what proportion of the spectators around me were booing the president, since I was far enough from the parade that turning my back on Bush meant turning my back on the rest of the spectacle, too. The imprecations drowned out the cheers, at least in the stretch of Pennsylvania Avenue by the Navy Memorial.
The rest of the parade was a long, tedious procession of stalwart servicepeople and shivering young marching bands, mostly from Texas. The marching band boys wore their pseudo-military uniforms and scowled as if practicing for their turn in Iraq. The girls in their frilly majorette uniforms marched bare-legged in the 35 degree chill. Pretty demoralizing, but then I've never been big on parades. I'm not entirely sure why I stayed to see it to the end. I'd already done my civic duty.
For the folks who could not go to the Inauguration who asked me to turn my back on the President for their sakes, too, I can only report that I did so with deeply felt intent. If I'd turned my back one full revolution for every person who made this strange request of me, Bush would have had to stop his motorcade to wait through a good half-hour of pirouettes. And wouldn't that have been a sight worth seeing?