GOOOOOBAMA!

I'm starting to sound like a broken record, I'm aware. I really wanted to give you all a thorough recap of the inaugural ball, but it just seems almost like a moot point at this juncture. It was almost two weeks ago, and I don't want to say "I'm over it," because it's certainly an experience that I will keep with me forever, but the thought of going into detail just exhausts me. So, forgive me, but you guys are getting a pictorial summary.

If you want more detail, I live-blogged the entire day for B, the site. You can read more posts than you ever wanted about my inauguration day festivities in the following series of posts:
-Live Inauguration Journey Blogging
-[Downbeat]'s Inauguration Journey Blog
-More here
-In-the-office Inauguration Watching
-[Downbeat]'s Inauguration musical inspiration/speech reaction
-[Downbeats] plans her D.C. departure
-Maybe meeting the President? [Downbeats] gets her nails done
-Watching the parade, ready to hit the road
-[Downbeats] arrives in D.C. in record time
-From [Downbeats], Mom's tips for going to an inaugural ball
-Standing in the cold before the ball
-Manolos, Frisking, and Stevie Wonder
-Annie Liebowitz, stranded in D.C.? and more
-And the best post title ever. Wait for it. Liquid Pleasure, too many balls

As I mentioned in my postings for B, the Maestro was deathly ill. He made a noble attempt to put a smile on my face and get to the ball. He wore his tails, made it all the way to the Metro platform, and it was clear that he just couldn't make it, so he stayed back at O's place in Chevy Chase and watched the festivities on CNN.

I do think that him not being there actually made me a better blogger/reporter. It gave me purpose for being there even though I didn't have a date. I was more intentional about meeting people and finding out their stories so that I could relay them to the people at home reading.

I met two ladies who had been best friends for 35 years. One of them was a TV reporter from Seattle and was doing a little bit of coverage for her station back at home while there. The other was a PR specialist here in Maryland. They were kind and let me tag along with them for the night. Liquid Pleasure opened up the evening. There was plenty of room to dance, and so that's what we did.



I really wasn't expecting much from them when they marched out on stage in those red sequined tuxedos, but these guys were showmen. They played Motown covers, funk, and R&B. They kept us quite entertained for a good hour or so.



James Taylor came on finally a little after 11 and was all we thought he was going to be and more.



People were so high on Obama positive vibes that night. A man seriously stopped me in my tracks to tell me that I was beautiful and that he wanted me to take my picture for me so that I could "see what [he] saw." He wasn't trying to mack on me. His wife was was within an arm's length. I don't think he was drunk either. He was just so happy that Obama was President. Here was the result:



I tried to stay until My President got there, but word was that he and Michelle weren't showing up until 2 or 2:30. By midnight, I felt like I was going to die, so I headed home after I got separated from my newfound friends for the second time that evening. Once sitting on the Metro, it was clear that lots of business and organizations in D.C. were happy that the Obamas had come to town, too. Check out the ads that were immediately around me:




The Maestro was there at the Bethesda Metro station to pick me up when I got off the train. We went back to O's and holed up on the couch. He looked like this



I couldn't even think of being upset for him not going. Look at that punim.

Anyway, two weeks late, I hope you all had a happy inauguration, too.

Wino Wednesday

I feel like the title of this blog post is a little bit of a blatant lie tease, because I'm not going to recommend a delicious beverage for you in this edition. No... I'm still too high off of the inauguration to do that, so I'm going to spend the rest of the week providing you all with anecdotes from my inauguration day. Don't worry: this one is booze-related. I send you apologies in advance for hearing tidbits of my story out of sequence, but chronologically this falls closer towards the end of my evening.

I was trying so hard to stay at the ball until Prince Charming Barack and Michelle got there, but word spread pretty early on in the evening that the Eastern Ball would be the last one of the evening they would intend, and they weren't expected to arrive until 2:30 am. Then the Maestro texted me from O's house where he was watching CNN (long story that you'll get parts of later) to inform me that Barack and Michelle were actually expected to arrive at 2 am. Either way, by midnight my stilettos had me feeling like I'd just run a marathon without feet on my ankles and I could barely hold my head up. I had gotten separated for the second time from new inauguration ball friends and decided to just head home around 1:00. One of the many lovely things about being in Union Station was that after I picked up my coat from the check closet, I could walk right out of the ball and onto the Metro. I caught the next (half empty) train towards Bethesda and found myself a nice seat in the corner of the car.

As the train got to Metro Center however, it filled up with attendants from other balls and a couple wound up sitting in the row behind mine. At first, I thought that they were having a domestic dispute in dulcet tones until I started listening closer and realizing that they were both completely plastered on champagne (I would recommend that for this week's installment of Wino Wednesday, but it was $7 a glass and not the Korbel that the Obamas were served for their inaugural luncheon). They were plastered on the cheap inaugural ball champagne and they were arguing over whether she was going to wait until she got off the train to purge the contents of her stomach by way of her esophagus or go ahead and do it right there. Against her date's wishes, she opted to wait as far as she could get her head into the bottom of her handbag. And instead of my inauguration night ending on the high note of Barack Obama sweeping me off my feet and asking me to dance with him at the ball, it ended listening to a woman ralph into her lap two feet away from my head. And then smelling the putrid odor of cheap champagne and stomach acid.

Hey... at least this guy went back to where he came from.

Happy Barack-Obama-is-President-today Day!

I just blog for fun, and I really don't feel that I'm particularly good at it (and that wasn't a neurotic self-deprecating ploy to get you say otherwise, I assure you). Today, however, I feel the need to be serious and articulate, because they're actually publishing what I say in a place where lots of people go to get their Baltimore news.

That's right, ladies and gents... mosey on over to B the site and read about my day. And hope that I don't say something stupid.

Guess who's gonna be belle of the ball.

I had to go down to the District yesterday to pick up our Inaugural Ball tickets in person. We're going to the Eastern Ball at Union Station, which initially gave me mixed feelings. On one hand, I wanted to go to the Mid-Atlantic Ball so that we had the chance of bumping into someone... anyone from Maryland. Someone who might have some distant connection to someone else that we knew in a previous life. On the other hand, I was excited about the venue. While I have no doubt that they'll make the Convention Center as snazzy as they possibly can, Union Station just seems like such a cooler space in which to have a ball. Then Mama Downbeats texted me to inform me that the main act at said ball we're attending is none other than James Taylor, the Maestro's favorite. That sealed the deal. I'm officially electrified to be a part of the inaugural festivities tomorrow.

I picked up Metro tickets for tomorrow as well while I was down there in the event that we decided that the Metro was the easiest way to get from point A to point be once entering the DC metropolitan area. Even the non-commemorative version have Obama's face on them. Instant souvenir!

So at any rate, the time is nigh! 24 hours and I'll be on my way to being a part of history. I'll be documenting my day tomorrow with B, Baltimore's free daily. Hop on over to B the site tomorrow to check out their inauguration coverage. And, of course, I'll be doing a wrap up here over the next few days.

...a little pre-occupied

That's the only way to describe my state over the past few days. You see, Mama Downbeats loves her only child so very much that she called me on Monday and offered me and the Maestro tickets to the hottest party in town. That's right... the Maestro and I will be painting the District red, white, and blue with the Obamas and the Bidens and everyone else who's partying like it's January 20, 2009.

I wasn't planning on going anywhere close to D.C. at all next week. I told the production team I'm working with on my current project not to look for me at all next week because, well, Kensington was just too close to the inaugural festivities for me to even think about venturing there. Heck, Baltimore might be too close to the inaugural festivities, so I'm not even sure if I planned on leaving my house next week.

But then Mama Downbeats called me at work on Monday afternoon with the gift that keeps on giving: the opportunity to get fancy and possibly breathe the same air as our new President. So immediately all of those acrid thoughts I was thinking about D.C. next week flew out of my mind and I screamed YES, WE CAN [go down to Washington for an Inaugural Ball as long as we don't have to pay for it]. (Sorry, I couldn't resist)

At any rate, I have chosen a gown. I've asked the Maestro to wear tails. I've been Tweeting my progress and researching all of the possible methods to get down to that side of the world when they've closed all humankind off from any sort of ground transportation. I'll keep you all updated on how it goes.

And if anyone has any sort of insight as to how to get to the Convention Center on Tuesday night, please throw it my way.