Though the switch from outdoor to indoor negated The South Shore Press’ ticketed access, no special clearance was required to traverse through the outdoor extravaganza that was the F Streetside area outside the Capitol One Arena in Washington D.C. on Monday, Jan. 20th.
Some protests of varied proportions formulated along this most colorful trail, but no booth nor supporter of since-sworn-in President Donald J. Trump felt legitimately threatened.
Security was strong, and disregard for hate and opposition on a day of new beginnings was even stronger. Why would one ever choose to wallow in round-the-clock negative vibes when, thanks to one vendor in particular’s gift of deep-cut looping, “Get Down On It” by Kool & the Gang exists?
“I pray to COVID before I pray to Jesus!” one attendee suddenly shouted at the local newspaper reporter using his iPhone XR as his makeshift microphone to get quick bytes from the shy-guy vendors barely willing to offer a quote or two.
This helped him keep relatively incognito on this quite specific assignment—possibly the furthest he’s ever traveled for one—compared to those representing other outlets on the scene who were being lightly accosted simply for doing their jobs.
“Ice cold souvenirs!”
“...I’m really in ‘The Planet of Apes” now.”
“Where’s her f—ing cheering section?”
Church bells musically chimed as vendors proudly peddled their mass assemblage of pro-Trump and anti-Trump items in the $10-$20 range—save for the understandably $150-marketed Gold High-Top “Trump Shoe.” This item, in particular, sported the look of something Stanley Yelnats would be accused of stealing from all-time fictional ballplayer, “Sweet Feet” Clyde Livingston.
Again, hostility grown airborne would just as quickly fly away with the great winds that forced the official Inauguration ceremony indoors for the first time since the commencement of Ronald Reagan’s second term in 1985.
Per this correspondent, Monday’s massive windchill factor was, thankfully, complemented with unencumbered sunshine, a much-welcomed reprieve from the previous day’s curiously district-halting small flurry of snowfall.
Passing through the pre-security checkpoint en route to Capitol One Arena’s in-waiting queue: a man ear-to-ear grinning while adorned within the blanketing of an American flag.
The South Shore Press grabbed a snapshot of this truly Kodak moment. However, the aforementioned sunshine begot lens glare, which firstly inspired the fear that the standout of the day’s pictorial parade had been positively rained down upon.
In review: as it turned out, the happiest of accidents had occurred—a lightning streak of sorts runs through the image, its subject unintentionally positioned as readying to become engulfed within what the more optimistically inclined could interpret as an acutely divine grasp.
This, in many ways, authentically captures the spirit of the most passionate individuals who poured out all over Washington D.C. this past weekend and beyond to promote their pride with sports worship-esque fervor.
The Buffalo Bills’ electric victory over the Baltimore Ravens on Saturday night even brought Bills Mafia out of the woodwork on these patriot-lined busy streets of D.C. The buzz surrounding the hyperlocal Washington Commanders solidifying a rare conference final appearance was far from faint as well.
Still, any feat of great athletic significance would, and did, pale in comparison to all that hosting an Inauguration entailed for a district, for our great nation that only does so every four years.
Reaching the end of the tour somewhere between a large print display of Trump shaking hands with North Korean dictator Kim Jong Un, an extremist Christian presence denouncing Trump as not Christian enough, and a Trumpified reimagining of Charley the Cymbol-banging monkey, a new conclusion was reached.
Wherever one could detect derision pertaining to the man put back in charge as of Monday, you would also find at least one of his supporters not overly confrontational, but simply laughing off the most heinous of affronts to their cause.
Freedom of speech and expression are alive and well, The South Shore Press perceived as much. The vertical hodgepodge nature of the strip of ridiculousness briefly invoked for us the class warfare rife within Bong Joon-ho’s 2013 post-apocalyptic “train”-set sci-fi thriller, “Snowpiercer.”
But the thing about that wholly underrated film: no one had the option of ever getting off the ride.
On that note, my childhood friend-turned-assistant photographer for the occasion and I knew that we very much did, and therefore, recognized it was high time to make like a tree—and Biff—and got out of there.
En route back to our friends’ apartment to take in the ceremony itself, we were handed a copy of the conspiratorially contemplative “The Great Controversy” and a miniature Trump guide to success pamphlet marketed as accompanying literature. We knew full well neither would be read before or after this reflection, but choose to pay the respect nevertheless due to these vendors in the form of this mention. What a hustle.
We passed many bars on our 10-minute stroll back to base that, by all accounts via passing glances into their windows, were far too packed for any spectators to hear the broadcast.
Thankfully, with a POTUS like DJT, so long as subtitles are turned on, even a divided room can come together to crush a collective Trump impression and produce hilariously whimsical results in the process—not quite “Rocky Horror” comboyah, but more like a “Wicked” path back toward civilized human relations.
At the end of the day, and by the end of the day I mean yesterday, one never forgets where they were when they saw Air Force One lift off on live TV after the presidential baton had officially been passed.
Nor do they forget seeing that same iconic craft mere moments later directly overhead, perfectly viewable from the window-side balcony nook of the apartment you rallied within for your 5-hour drive back to Long Island—a homemade iced latte in your left hand, and the last MAGA Energy Drink you ever cared to imbibe in your right. Coffee is just too good to cheat on it long-term.
Thank you once more to our Suffolk County-born friends’ turned Washington mainstays for impromptu hosting us during 24 hours of mad-lib shenanigans for a pair of Hauppaugians that started the weekend losing their tickets to the inauguration due to the inclement weather.
…but decided to go anyway. Clear eyes, full hearts, get down on it.