Surviving the Inauguration

Turns out, I did so just fine. I pretty much ignored all the advice, and did what I normally do on a weekend, which doesn't involve too much, mostly sports and movie-watching. I ventured out to go to a show on Friday night, and to take care of my errands throughout the weekend, without incident.

Comcast celebrated the Inauguration by not providing me with television service for a 24-hour period from Monday morning to Tuesday morning. Service was randomly restored, however, just before 10:00AM on Tuesday morning. Thanks, President Obama! Comcast, watch your back.

My girlfriend had to be at work at noon on Tuesday, so I listened to the swearing-in on the radio in my car. At about 12:05PM I was in my car, on 395 South from the Pentagon. At that particular moment, there may have been less traffic on 395 than at any other moment in history. It was cool. I felt like Will Smith in I Am Legend, and was tempted to stop in the middle of the road and hit some golf balls. (I didn't want to stir up the zombies, though.)

I had an excellent inaugural lunch at my sister's house, where I'm sure the food was better than at the Capitol. The menu had a Chicago theme, and I paid tribute to the new president's midwestern roots by drinking quite a few Leinenkugel's 1888 Bocks. I know Leienkugel's is from Wisconsin, but the only Chicago beer I'm familiar with is Old Style, and, if you've ever had one, I think you can respect my decision. Anyway, the lunch was great. And there were no seizures, except for a brief period when my dog seized a stuffed panda bear that wasn't a dog toy. He relinquished it, without incident, and then started eating some straws. Good boy!

My girlfriend and I watched/snoozed through the coverage of the night-time inaugural events; I think we went to bed when the President was at Ball #7. This morning I got up when it was still dark, and made my way back into the city. I fully expected Metro to be shut-down this morning, complete with Out of Order signs in front of the entrances. I was pleasantly surprised that it was working just fine. My train was uncrowded, so I sat down and happily considered how nice it was to be entering DC with the knowledge that George Bush no longer lives there.

The Year's First Subway Fiasco
I assess Metro delays the same way floods are assessed. This evening, I participated in a subway glitch unlike any I'd been in in a couple of years, so it was a two-year delay.

That it wasn't going to be the usual commute didn't dawn on me until I had descended into the system and had parked myself on the platform at the Farragut West station, ready to head towards Virginia. There was a packed orange line train at the station. And it didn't move. As it didn't move, the platform got more and more packed. Metro people stopped commuters on the mezzanine, preventing them from moving down to the overcrowded platform. And the scoreboard on the platform noted that what we were experiencing was "residual delays."

As the train continued to not move, the platform got even more crowded. A Metro person walked up and down the edge of the platform, screaming from one end of the platform to people trying to come down from the mezzanine on the other side of the platform. So if, as they told us, the platform was 600 feet long, she was yelling at people more than 300 feet away. They didn't hear her. We got announcement over announcement, often interrupting each other, basically telling us, sorry, keep waiting. And using the word "residual" a lot.

The train eventually moved, but there was no hope of boarding a Virginia-bound orange line train anytime soon, and I hate having to compete with other commuters just to get into a damned train. So I moved to the opposite side of the platform, and did some backtracking. I got off at Federal Triangle, and immediately got on a relatively uncrowded train back towards Virginia. I got a seat, and braced myself as the train went towards the more crowded stations. Within two stops, the train was jammed full of people. And this was before we got to Farragut West.

We arrive at Farragut West -- a platform full of tired, pissed off people, faced with a train with no room on it. As the door opened, I braced for confrontation:

Tired-looking ponytailed woman by the door, as people tried to squeeze in: "There's no room."
Irritating-voiced 25-year old guy, in cheap suit, the kind of guy that gives all guys in DC a bad reputation: "Sure there is."
Ponytailed woman, and about 10 other passengers: "No there isn't."
Irritating-voiced guy: "If you could all move in just a little."
Nobody moved. They couldn't.
Irritating-voiced guy, to ponytailed woman: "When you got on, I'm sure people moved so you could fit, but no, you won't return the favor, that would be un-American..."
Ponytailed woman: "You know, DC has a whole system of taxi cabs, if you're in such a hurry."
Me, silently: "Yay, ponytailed woman."

The door closed, with irritating-voiced guy never having made any progress. We made it through Foggy Bottom and Rosslyn without further incident. As I squeezed my way out at Courthouse, I gave a nod to ponytailed woman.