Eight years ago, I traveled with my family from Indiana to Washington D.C. to watch my brother participate in Barack Obama’s inaugural parade. Four years ago, I too was given the chance to ride horses in Obama’s second inaugural parade. And when the opportunity to attend the most recent inauguration presented itself, I accepted, in spite of all the controversy surrounding the election of President Donald Trump.

Writing this post has been a challenge, and if you are reading this in its published format, know that I dedicated a significant amount of time thinking about how to organize my thoughts. As of recent, the craze is all about comparing the 2009, 2013, and 2017 inaugurations. While I certainly am qualified to contribute on this topic, I don’t think it would be productive. Instead, I have resolved to simply reflect on my 2017 inaugural experience by simply offering a chronological account of the events I witnessed. I will include comparisons of my experiences where I think it is relevant and appropriate. This way, I can be objective yet fair with my story.
Thursday, January 19

0500 It is early. My alarm has clearly irritated my two roommates. I get ready quickly and make my way outside wearing a suit and wool hat. An Uber is waiting to take me to the train station.
0630 I definitely showed up too early for my train. Waiting alone in this small train station, I start to notice how differently dressed I am from others. They are wearing jeans and sweatshirts. I feel slightly elitist – and pretentious.

0730 Almost everyone on my train has arrived at this point. Two men sit down next to me, who are clearly close friends. I estimate they are probably in their late fifties. One (Paul) is in great shape, the other (John) is more heavyset and wearing a Make America Great Again hat. I start chatting with them. John tells me his wife would not let him take his “I am a deplorable” shirt. They begin to tell me about the last inauguration they attended, which was Bush 43 in 2001. I ask if they saw the protests then. They shrug the question off and rant about how some Americans take our democratic system for granted. Paul mutters something angrily about how young people are inclined to view socialism favorably. John then tells me about how they appreciate our country more than most Americans because of their military tours. I quickly thank both of the men for their service. After this exchange of my gratitude, the conversation comes to an impasse. We keep to ourselves.

1230 I arrive at Union Station. There are plenty of vendors soliciting per usual. I am stopped dead in my tracks by my own intrigue but also dismay. “Trumped that b!tch” or “Hillary for prison” are displayed right alongside the iconic red Make America Great Again hats. The pejorative paraphernalia is everywhere, and it clearly sparks pride or disdain, depending on one’s perspective.

1400 Waiting in line for a security screening, I start a conversation with the people around me. The tone is cordial as soon as we realize that most of us are Hoosiers – an all-inclusive label denoting you are from Indiana. When asked about school, I answer back that I attend the University of Richmond. I have to clarify that the school is not in Indiana, but also note that I attended Culver Academies. This ends the conversation for some, which puzzles me.

1430 I arrive to the event that I was invited to attend. The room has nice red velvet carpet and is used for committee meetings and confirmation hearings. It can probably fit around 150. As I check in to pick up the inauguration tickets and press passes I came for, I see Senator Donnelly talking to students, parents, and officials in suits or military uniforms. His message to everyone is an uplifting textbook platitude that is centered around the “peaceful transition of power.”

I pull a staffer off to the side and attempt to ask about what the office really thinks. He tells me that everyone is still processing the election results, because of how inaccurate the media coverage was. We hold back grins as fake news is paid some lip service. I learn that, in response, a considerable number of staffers were dispatched to actually listen to constituents. He tells me that everyone’s inboxes are flooded with concerns from teachers and parents about Besty Devos, who was tapped by Trump to lead the Education Department.

From the corner of the room, I spot Pete Buttigieg, the mayor of South Bend who is currently running for head of the DNC. He clearly has something urgent to talk with Donnelly about, but the press intercepts him for an interview. I wait about an hour to see if he will come back, but he is clearly busy elsewhere.

2300 My sleeping arrangements are modest. I am nevertheless thankful that a high school friend and her roommates have agreed to let me crash on their couch. I can tell that the roommates are uncomfortable with the fact that I am attending the oath ceremony. It comes to my attention that they are part of the 96% of Clinton voters in Washington. They also inform me that two others will be arriving later in the night. I ask if they have plans to attend the inauguration, too. Bursts of laughter come from one roommate, who tells me that they are communist protesters. I begin to wonder if these organized demonstrations will interfere with my own plans.

Friday, January 20

0500 My alarm sounds and I cope with the fatigue that accompanies little sleep in the anticipation of a busy day. I open the Periscope app on my phone to try to get an idea of what I will be confronting in a few hours. There is only one stream in the area, which is highly unusual. It’s a protest going on at DuPont Circle. From what I can discern, people are gathering to smoke pot. I roll my eyes and visit my Twitter feed, largely composed of journalists I trust and political officials I find interesting. Conservative and liberal pundits appear to be equally concerned about the messages Mr. Trump will project on to the public today. There are very few predictions, mostly just concerns about what he could say.

0530 A stream from the district finally goes live, and I analyze what is being shown. There are dozens of people waiting for the lines to open, but it is not chaotic. I remember the lines starting at 4:30 in 2008, so this is not particularly terrible. I relay the information to my friend, who I have given my spare ticket to, but get no response.
0600 I make my way over to the Panera Bread by the Tenleytown-AU metro and sit down for a much-needed coffee. The store is almost empty, besides a few customers who have already been served. I am the only person in line, which shocks me. Eight years ago, all of the Starbucks were sold out of food before 5:30! While I eat quickly, I try to get a response from my friend. At this point, I realize she probably overslept.

0630 I get on the metro in route to Judiciary Square, where my ticket gate is located. The metro is not overcrowded, and everyone has a comfortable amount of room whether they are standing or sitting. I think back to when I used to lobby with AIPAC, and how the metro was more packed on those days in particular compared to now. As the metro arrives to my destination, I sit down on a bench and begin to spam my friend with texts and phone calls in the hopes that one might get a response. Finally, I get a response and patiently wait in the metro.

0800 About five metros have unloaded at this point, and each time the passengers created an overflow line for the escalator. I tell my friend where to meet me and head towards my entrance gate. As I get closer, I hear a familiar sound: low-quality speakers transmitting an unclear message about G-d. Although these demonstrators were present at the past two inaugurations, they were not nearly embraced as they were now. Perhaps I was not paying attention back then, but I do not remember inaugural attendees donating money to these people. That is, there was no bucket for donations like usual. Rather, this individual was happily accepting the contributions voluntarily offered to him.
0830 I walk over to the Red Gate entrance where a cohort of security officials is stationed. Forced to leave their caffeine fixes behind, attendees have carelessly left them on the cylinder barricades and ground. Litter is always a problem at these gatherings. I notice a sea of individuals directly across the ticket entrance. They have formed a platoon and are standing unnaturally still. I tell my friend to hurry up, because I do not like the tension that is brewing. It is too late; the demonstrators start to approach the entrance barricades. They form a human wall and try to prevent ticket holders from getting through (see video). A violent game of red rover results, and those who get through are visibly frustrated, with some throwing punches. Two old women break through and both are wearing Trump apparel. Their brief exchange of screams ends with a middle finger and its verbal equivalent. As one of the women walks away, I realize she is wearing a confederate jean jacket to the oath ceremony. People begin to walk around the demonstrators and pour in through the side, including my friend. We quickly make our way to and through the security gate.

0930 Walking towards the fenced in area that constitutes our ticket area, I am spatially aware of how much room there is. Interestingly enough, some attendees have managed to smuggle signs through the security lines. The signs are not pro-Trump, they are simply anti-Hillary. A lot of the small talk revolves around the election, but nobody seems is focused on the presidency.

1030 I start a conversation with some of the people around me. When they learn I am from Indiana, they automatically assume I am for Trump. They question me about Pence and I offer my opinion, which they seem to agree with. I am more interested to learn about their backgrounds, however. I only listen, for I fear that my rearing would clash with theirs. One man, likely in his mid-60s and wearing a camo colored Trump hat, tells me that he didn’t have electricity in his house until two decades ago. He tells me that Donald Trump garnered his support, because he thinks more people in his neighborhood will get electricity. Another man with a scruffy beard, who is probably in his 40s, tells me that his father walked out on him when he was 11. In turn, he was forced to pull himself up by the bootstraps and become an apprentice at a car shop. He quit, however, when he was told that his compensation was offered due to the owner’s sympathy for his situation. His reflection ended with a bold takeaway: “And that is why I don’t support no form of welfare.” The man in the camo hat interjects into the conversation again, and defends welfare programs. It brings the conversation to an awkward halt.

1130 The oath ceremony is initiated by a formal prayer observance. Three religious leaders offer some evangelical remarks. Some churchgoers are at home with their eyes closed and hands raised in the air. The moment felt unnatural, as if it was forced or being dragged on. I get the feeling that this is more about pride than faith.

Former presidents are welcomed to find their seats. Jimmy Carter is greeted by booing. The crowd erupts in booing and hissing as Bill and Hillary Clinton’s names are announced. Despite the booming inaugural music, the crowd’s disrespect is clearly audible. In fact, Hillary cannot hold back her disgust and the camera catches a glimpse of her reaction. The announcer skips ahead to Bush 43, who, albeit was repeatedly attacked by Donald Trump in the campaign, is welcomed by overwhelming cheers. I am confused and disgusted by the disrespect that was shown. These Americans did not consider the office to be a transcendent one. I still wrestle with the fact that these people were kind to me.

I found it interesting how the announcer named “Barack H. Obama” and “Donald John Trump.” Usually, conservatives emphasize the Hussein. For his own part, Trump refers to himself as Donald J. Trump. I conclude that this must have been intentional, but restrain myself from commenting about it in the moment.

When Supreme Court Justice John Roberts is announced to deliver the oath to Donald Trump, the crowd is silent. Perhaps they forgot he was the swing vote in favor of saving Obamacare. It is clear that their bursts of discontent are drawn along party lines.

Trump’s speech begins. I quickly find his message ridiculous. I joke that Stephen Bannon must have written the whole oration (only later did I discover I was right!), because it does not sound like anything else I have heard. Two words strike a chord for everyone listening: American carnage. It was a facile narrative that I refused to buy, but it went unquestioned by those around me. The dark tone of this speech shaped the mood of the attendees. As everyone left for the exit, it was dead quiet, a stark contrast from what I remembered. Before I enter the subway, I see a teenage girl, no older than 15, posing for a picture in front of a political banner. She is wearing a sweatshirt that reads “Fuck Islam”; the latter word is in Arabic. I keep walking straight, just like everyone else.

Sadly, that is the last memory I have from the 2017 Inauguration.

DB