New experiences

Yesterday turned out to be a pretty good day. We were sitting around the house, not doing much after discussing going down for the free inaugural concert, but had decided against it after considering the cold and the crowds.

Well, after watching a stupid movie, I changed the channel to live pictures on CNN of all the people celebrating and waiting on the show to start, and it got us talking. We didn't go downtown to celebrate on election night because we had to work the next day, and we can't go to the inauguration itself because we have to work. It wasn't worth sitting this one out. We hastily put on several layers and drove to the Metro station. It wasn't that crowded. We rode the train into Metro Center. It was crowded there, but not chaotic. We took the orange line to the Smithsonian stop, and when we emerged from the steps out onto the street, it was totally surreal. There were jumbotrons on Independence Avenue. There were people literally everywhere - in the trees, on the curb, running in the streets. There was someone every few steps selling various Obama-related merchandise. It was really like Bonnaroo had landed on the National Mall - except that it was about 25 degrees outside.

Protected by our many layers and undaunted by the cold, we pushed forward as far as seemed safe. We got to just behind the WWII Memorial, which is still a good quarter-mile away from the Lincoln Memorial. We got there a little late, so all we got to see as far as the concert went was Beyonce's song and Obama's speech at the end. This was fine, because the party and the spirit of the moment continued on for quite a long time afterward. We walked around and took some pictures. Then we took some pictures for other excited couples who wanted them, and then we had someone take ours. It was really ethereal and amazing.

We wanted to avoid some of the foot traffic, so we took the long way around the Holocaust Museum. We walked for a while before realizing that the guy in front of us had cameras and paparazzi following him. We just kept on walking, not knowing who he was, other than a really tall, well-dressed man in a fedora. We had to pick up on the context clues from passersby. Eventually we deciphered the name Rick Fox. "Who the hell is he?" I said. We're not sports people. Apparently he's a retired NBA player. People were just turning and gawking at the guy like he was the messiah returned. How strange it must be, I thought, for that to happen whenever you walk down the street. All because he can play basketball really well. It's just weird how we elevate people to such heights. I worry that my fanatical love of the President Elect is derived from the same hollow place, but I decide that it is not. He can play basketball pretty well, too, but that doesn't have anything to do with it. He's a true leader. An unapologetic intellectual who has come along at precisely the right time. If we hadn't elected him, we would be in for at least four more years of anti-smart, anti-science, pro-divisiveness. With all the current crises, we just couldn't afford to make that kind of mistake. The faith that I had lost in the American public over the last eight years has been mostly restored.

We got back in line for the Metro and Mr. Fox continued sauntering down the street with jaws dropping and his name being excitedly whispered behind him like a trail he'd left to find his way back to his hotel. The Metro was impressively well-run and organized. The Transit Authority cop kept us at the stop of the stairs while the trains loaded to avoid a frenzy of overcrowding on the platform. The trains were loaded up without too much hassle, although I did see a lot of impatient out-of-towners shoving through to get on as soon as the doors opened. We managed to get seats right away and prepared to ride back, still buzzing from what we had just been through. It would have been more fun had the train not begun to make me motion sick. I spent the rest of the ride turning as green as my hoodie, leaning my head back, and breathing deeply to keep my lunch down.

We got back and felt like continuing the celebration, so we got some wings and beer and watched the concert in its entirety on TV. There is really something to be said for being able to turn on CNN and say, "You know what? Let's go down there and be a part of that!"


With that unexpectedly wonderful day behind us, I had to get up at a quarter to six this morning to go in to work early to finish a TPS report. It chose to do this rather than staying late on Friday. I might as well get used to getting up that early for the next few days, because we agreed to take care of the farm animals while the landlords are away until Thursday. This sounded much easier than it is. Feeding the alpacas is no big deal. They're just big rabbits, anyway, and they only go where their stomachs carry them. The difficult part comes in corralling the pony.

I have never liked horses. My mom goes absolutely gaga over-the-moon for them, and I've never understood why. They're huge. If that animal wanted to, it could crush my skull like a cantaloupe. It was too late now, though. We agreed to do the job, and it was up to us to corral a pony in the pitch black, snowy, frozen night. It was not fun or romantic. The latch on the gate was frozen. We dumped some hot water on it to get it open. This immediately opened the latch and froze my hands to the galvanized steel gate. I was glad to be wearing thick leather gloves. I cracked them off of the metal and walked past the bucking pony, over to close the barn door.

My flashlight went out.

That little bastard. I picked it especially for this task because it's been the most reliable flashlight I've ever owned. It's the first LED flashlight I ever bought, and it's been on the same set of batteries for just about eight years now. It's at least as miraculous as a former NBA player walking down the street, and now, when I need it most, it has let me down. I smack it around obligatorily, like a doomed teenager in a slasher movie. It flickers dimly, but I can see well enough through the flickers to get the door closed.

Snow reflects moonlight very well, so at least I can see to walk back over to Hillary and a very excited pony. She is bucking and jumping and is happy to see us, mostly because we have treats and carrots. She starts trying to eat my sleeve, and I tell her "NO," and smack her on the side of the nose like I was told to do. She doesn't like this, and turns around to threaten to kick. I jump out of the way and realize what a miserable time I am having. Cats do not turn around and break your ribs with a kick. They do not need to be fenced in, and they certainly don't try to eat your sleeves. The pony finally walks through the other side of the frozen-solid gate and follows us back to her pen. She is brand new at being a pony, and as far as I know, this is her first snowfall. It doesn't seem to bother her in the least. She runs and jumps and chews on my sleeve. I am now resigned to this, because it beats a kick in the chest.

I made it back inside, and felt like I just had to write a blog about Bonnaroo in the middle of DC, and my first experience corralling a pony in the freezing darkness, with a broken flashlight and a pocketful of carrots.

The last two days have been very strange and surreal. I had better get ready to make it three in a row tomorrow.


Keep fighting the good fight (against the ponies)
Paco