#be happy with what you got or wait until official resale

[seokwoosmole]

if u are buying concert tickets with the sole purpose of selling them to other ppl BURN

[thebrotherssalvatore321]

Keeping Secrets Ch. 1

Keeping Secrets Masterlist

Pairing: DamonxOc. TylerxOc in future chapters, ElijahxOc, KlausxOc is endgame. She’s never sleeping with more than one guy at a time. This is just a long story with 25 chapters so far that I’m also posting on FanFiction.net. Warnings: She does however cheat on someone in future chapters if that counts as a warning.

Keeping Secrets 

Katie Finnegan’s house sat on a beautiful street lined with beautiful houses. It was actually right down the street from her best friend Elena’s. Elena had recently lost her parents and was now under the guardianship of her aunt Jenna. It was a bleak situation, but one that Elena and her brother Jeremy could with time bounce back from with the loving support of their aunt. Katie on the other hand had long been plagued by the loss of her parents who died from a cause unknown to her when she was just ten years old.

Unlike Elena and Jeremy, Katie didn’t have any loving aunts or uncles to take her in. All she had was the abusive grandfather who she had never even met despite the fact that he lived in the same town that she did. She didn’t even know what he looked like until he showed up on the doorsteps of her parents house with a suitcase and two moving trucks. One was for her parents stuff to be packed up and auctioned off and the other was full of his.

Only after he showed up did she realize that she had seen him around town, but her parents never acknowledged him. At first she couldn’t understand it. For the first few months he was okay. He didn’t talk to her or play with her much but that was fine with her since she was always good at playing by herself, but once the social workers stopped coming by to make sure she was settling in okay, things started taking a turn for the worse. If she accidentally spilled her drink or dropped even a crumb he would lash out at her. Then she started understanding why her mother ran away with her father at the age of seventeen.

As she got older she got to know how to stay out of his way when he was sober, but when he was drunk there was no avoiding him. By the time she was seventeen she was sneaking out of the house on weekly biases just to get away from him. She thought over the years that her friends, Elena, Caroline and Bonnie would have figured out what was happening to her at home, but they never did. She became too good at hiding it and brushing off the bruises and cuts as her being clumsy. So they never asked more and she never told. She put on a good face and acted like every other sporty teen age girl looking forward to getting into college on a scholarship. She dreamed of the day she could leave Mystic Falls in her rear view and never look back.

Chapter 1

Katie Finnegan sat at the dimly lit roll top desk, in her bedroom writing in a spiral notebook that had the word journal written on the front cover in black ink. Her auburn waves, tamed with just the right amount of styling product, hung around her face and she tucked one tendril behind her ear then pushed her glasses up her nose and continued writing. "Today was the second day of school. Summer is officially over, no more avoiding my friends as much as possible. I saw Caroline and Bonnie at cheer camp, but Elena didn’t make it this year. So it's back to the real world. And the real world has given us high school girls some new eye candy. His name is Stefan and he already has eyes only for Elena. Although, it seems like Caroline is going to give her a run for her money. She's already practically stalking the guy. I'm supposed to be getting ready to go to the stupid back to school bonfire tonight, but I don't really want to go. Why would I? It's just going to be a bunch of people getting drunk and hooking up and that will just remind me that no one wants to be with me. I'm invisible. Sometimes I think I'm just a ghost that only my friends can see and sometimes even they don't see me. I'm not looking forward to sneaking out tonight. Last time I got caught Grandpa nearly beat me to death. But I have to go tonight otherwise I will never hear the end of it from Caroline in the morning. So I’ll talk to you later, Journal."

Katie tucked the pen inside, closed the book and pushed it away from her. With a sigh she pulled on a pair of dark wash distressed jeans, a black ac dc tank top and her favorite black leather jacket that she'd found for a good price at the local resale shop. She finished the look off with red converse and touch of tastefully smudged eyeliner.

With tentative steps she pushed open her bedroom window and eased herself out onto the roof. After glancing over the edge to make sure her grandpa wasn't waiting for her at the bottom like the last time, she started climbing down the surprisingly strong rose trellis. Now that she was safely out of the house she put her car into neutral and pushed it a few blocks away then started it and headed to the party.

The party was what she expected it to be and after drinking a few cups of beer and having a few laughs with Bonnie, she decided to stop, otherwise she wouldn't be able to climb back up to her room. She was tossing her empty cup into the trash when she spotted Stefan, who had taken up most of Elena's time, near the treeline watching her talk to her ex boyfriend Matt. Excusing herself from Bonnie who was telling her how she saw a crow when she touched Elena's hand she headed over to Stefan. "Hey." She greeted him with a small smile that he returned with his own greeting as if he didn't want to talk to her. "Don't worry unlike every other girl at this party I'm not going to throw myself at you." She laughed as she moved to stand a few feet beside him, making Stefan surprisingly give her a laugh and a genuine smile. "I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm Katie, Elena's friend." She informed him. "I saw you over here looking all jealous and I figured I'd let you know that you don't need to be."

"Yeah, why's that?" He asked turning toward her without moving his feet as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"I know it's not my place to say and I'm sticking my nose where it doesn't belong, but...she's over Matt. Has been for a long time now. She just couldn't make herself hurt him." She answered. "She's sweet like that."

"Well, you're..."

"Weird." She finished since it seemed like he was looking for the right word to describe her.

"I was going to say forward, but weird works." He laughed. "You know, you're the first girl that hasn't tried to hit on me since I got to this school. It's kinda refreshing, but I don't get it." He looked at her with pursed lips and puzzled eyes. "Why are you trying to help me get the girl?" Stefan asked.

"Because I’m weird.” Katie answered as if she were trying to sound mysterious then laughed. “Na, it’s really because I knew I didn't stand a chance." She answered as she dropped her eyes to the ground then got quiet for a second. "And also because she's one of my best friends and she's had a hard year. She could use a little happiness."

"How do you know I'll make her happy?" He asked with a tight lipped smile.

Katie glanced up at where Matt and Elena had been to see that Matt was gone and Elena was looking at the two of them. "Because," she started then turned to look at Stefan across her shoulder, "now she's the one looking jealous."

She was pretty sure that once Stefan looked at Elena he forgot all about her. So she went back to the party, meeting Bonnie at the top of the small hill. "Hey, where you goin'?" Bonnie asked when Katie walked past her.

"The grill. I need coffee if I'm going to sober up enough to get home before Grandpa leaves for work and realizes my car isn't there." She replied and kept walking.

"Okay, we’ll meet you there later." Bonnie called after her and Katie waved over her shoulder letting her friend know she heard her.

After getting a hot coffee Katie chose a table outside and pulled the book they had been assigned for English out of her bag. She was half way through the assigned chapters when sirens started blaring and cop cars sped past the grill toward the party. After they passed out of sight her phone vibrated and she looked at the screen to see a text from Bonnie that said, "Vicki was attacked by an animal."

She didn't have enough minutes left on her phone to text Bonnie back, so she called her since it was free. "Hey, what do you mean she was attacked by an animal? Is everyone okay?"

"I don't know, Elena and Jeremy found her in the woods with some kind of bite on her neck. No one else seems to be hurt, but they’re putting Vicki in an ambulance right now." Bonnie answered, sounding worried and tense.

"Oh my god, do I need to come back?" Katie pressed her fingertips to her lips not knowing what else she could say.

"No, me and Caroline are about to head your way. We’re gonna sober up while we wait for news." Bonnie told her.

"Okay, just...stay safe okay?" She got a positive answer from Bonnie then hung up the phone. Not being able to read anymore she tucked the book into her bag and focused on sipping the still hot coffee. Ten minutes later Bonnie pulled up and parked in front of the grill. They got a table inside and the other two girls ordered coffee.

"Why didn't he go for me?" Caroline asked sounding whinier than usual, clearly talking about Stefan. "How come the guys that I want never want me?"

"I'm not gonna touch that one." Bonnie answered.

Caroline looked to Katie for answers. "Yeah, I'm not answering that either."

"I'm inappropriate. I always say the wrong thing..." She started listing off the things wrong with herself. Katie pulled a I'm gonna keep my mouth shut look and took a sip of lukewarm coffee. "And Elena always says the right thing. God, she doesn't even try and he just picks her. She's the one that everyone picks for everything. I try... SO hard and I'm never the one."

"It's not a competition." Bonnie said, looking at Katie for back up.

"Sorry, Bon, but sometimes it kinda feels like one." Katie said with a shrug.

"See." Caroline said with a motion to Katie. "Thank you."

After things calmed down and Caroline sobered up a little, Bonnie left the table to go pay the bill. Katie looked up from her empty cup and noticed Caroline smiling at someone and followed her gaze to a dark haired, ice blue eyed, gorgeous guy who was smiling back at her. "Looks like you found someone to like you back." Katie told Caroline with a grunt as she slid out of the chair and grabbed her bag. "Tell Bonnie I said good night."

"I will." Caroline replied not breaking eye contact with the guy. Katie just rolled her eyes and walked away.

She managed to sneak successfully back into her room and sat down at her desk, pulling her journal out and flipping to a fresh page. "Well the party was as I predicted it would be, except Vicki Donovan got attacked by some kind of animal. I wasn't there to see it, but it was apparently pretty bad. After the party Caroline, Bonnie and I met up at the grill to sober up. I got to listen to Caroline complain about how she never gets the guy and Elena gets everything. Of course right after this conversation she catches some super hot, blue eyed guy’s attention. Like, I can't stress enough how hot this guy was. The contrast of his dark hair and ice blue eyes was enough to make a girl's heart melt, not to mention the cute smirk he was giving Caroline. I hate to sound like Caroline, but why don't guys ever look at me? I mean I may not be crazy beautiful like Elena, Bonnie and Caroline, but I don't think I'm ugly either. Maybe that's why, because no one notices the average girl. And that's exactly how I would categorize myself. Whatever, who needs a guy anyway? All they bring is trouble. I need sleep. Ttyl Journal."

[soju-stories-blog]

Itaewon:  An Ode to The Gold

 People spoke of "How much better it was before..." or how "You should have been here in 2010..."  However, for my time playing up front as the lone striker for Itaewon FC from February 2013 until around the summer of 2015, it was the sanctuary of all places.   

 Gold Bar

Open every night, cheap - and questionably sourced - booze, always packed (even on a Monday morning at 5am) and you'd constantly leave with an anecdote to tell: usually involving witnessing / being involved in a fight.

It was just of course an added bonus to proceedings that the ease of hooking up there gave the place an air of an extremely low budget version of the Playboy mansion.  Imagine the Hugh Hefner ‘bunny girl grotto’ experience but on a Travelodge Hotel scale of design, features and budget...the tackier the better.  No thrills needed:  a quick check in and even quicker check out.   Customers passing through the golden arches of this particular establishment were looking for a ‘Happy Meal’ of a different kind.  

Outside, above the entrance to this utopia, on a yellow hued background (Real 24 karat Gold being too expensive in those days for mere everyday decoration) stood the name...in proud, golden, flicking lights...luring you inside.

  Gold Bar:  "Where you don't pick the STD, the STD picks   you."

This was an Itaewon area before the incoming tidal wave of gentrification had completely eroded the crumbling features of the seedy cliff facade.  Leaving behind in its departure a faceless parade of generic looking chain store coffee houses, pretentiously overpriced 'fusion cuisine' restaurants and fad bars that would come and go quicker than you could say: "Premature ejac..."

 There used to be a certain character to the streets, a distinct feeling that 'something might happen' filling the air.   In this respect I don't mean the stories of stabbings, gun wielding GIs, lines of prostitutes up Hooker Hill touting their wares or the supposed No Go zones that had proliferated the area 10-15 years prior.   Itaewon was just a different breed to any other composite clone neighbourhood in Seoul, the rest of which adhered to the 7/11 + Coffee Smith + Paris Baguette + Noraebang genetic coding.  

In a country where appearance is everything, with plastic surgery rife and conformity and collectivism adhered to over individualism or 'standing out', Itaewon didn't want to play by these rules. It was the Black Sheep of the family: the moody teenager giving society the middle finger. 

If we're to stick with this family unit metaphor, then if Itaewon was the wayward son, the Seoul city planners and the local real estate moguls were the judgmental extended relatives , scornfully lurking in the distance,  waiting for some slip up or mistake and the opportunity to pack their disgraced sibling off to military service. This what was best for him they'd decided.  He needed straightening out. This would be followed by a lifetime in a nondescript, dull office job  and matched at home, by an equally mundane and lifeless marriage to a bride of their choice.

Thankfully, this had yet to pass.  Itaewon was for the time being the nonchalant rebel who didn't conform to standards set by his family ties and had no desire to.  He was the rough, scruffy Nirvana tribute act, to their dreary, cul-de-sac, dad rock, Nickelback cover band.

Artwork courtesy of Aaron Cossrow @ http://sojuking.com/ 

"You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy."

  This golden period for Itaewon was a precursor to the overriding influence social media would start to yield upon society.  It's not like Facebook or Instagram weren't prominent in 2012.  They were there.  However the solid concrete barriers that society had in place, were just about managing to keep the ever rising levels of smug entitlement and over inflated self importance at bay.  The population were safe for the moment, blissfully unaware of the approaching, apocalyptic tsunami of Instagrammers about to engulf them with demands for a waiver on their bill, as they have “2000 followers and their own hashtag.”

When the levees finally breached in late 2014, that's when Itaewon, went almost overnight from being lamented as a "wretched hive of scum and villainy" by officials, to Starbucks:  The Theme Park.  There were cafe latte mascots, selfie stands, pop up hipster stores, more Starbuck stores where you used to find starfucks, Street Churros stalls and Kpop tours for the mega rich Chinese tourists. The dystopian gentrification was complete.  Itaewon was getting packed off to military school and a buzz cut.  

Parents who used to run in fear at the first signs of dusk or foreigners in their midst, now brazenly walked the dark alleyways of Itaewon with their kids in pushchairs.  This is the affluent, respectable clientele the area now desires.  The type who'll purchase countless lattes, alongside taking countless selfies.  They're content to purchase overpriced (and elaborately over sized), phallic like ice creams, which are then thrust into their confused and traumatized kids' faces for the family photo opportunity.    

The dirty, clandestine dive bar you once loved and cherished has gone mainstream and been given a final nail in the coffin:  the dreaded Naver blog.  It now resembles a clearance sale at a sausage meat factory, on the day before the annual 'Sausage Fest' celebrations in Bratwurstshire. Where people with sausages stuffed in every possible orifice get in for free.

 I've got ahead of myself in my lamenting of the present whereas we should be doing a Marty McFly and focusing on going back.... to the future?  I mean the past.   Whatever.  Go get a churro.  

  The Mos Eisley Cantina

The first time I found myself inside Gold Bar, is like most of my nights in Itaewon, quite hazy and vague.  It could be my bad memory or most likely, the amount of soju that had been consumed prior to ending up there. I do remember however that  my 'Golden' initiation ceremony with my female acquaintance there required no pleasantries, names or chat up lines being provided before the exchange of bodily fluids took place.  Classy stuff.

It was probably a blessing in disguise, as my Korean at this time (and now) was still pretty minimal and her English wasn't much better.  I still hadn't got her name by the time she left the following morning.  Despite such a sketchy recollection of details. I do remember one thing:   in providing me with her mobile number, she'd obviously forgotten that the profile picture on her Kakao Talk (The Korean version of Whatsapp, for those not in the know) was of a striking and beautiful figure, dressed from head to toe in virginal white.   It turns out she was supposed to be getting married later that month. 

If the potential herpes outbreak from your Gold conquests didn't satisfy your thrill quota, then there was also the lack of any adherence to fire safety codes on the premises to overindulge on. No emergency exits: one way in and one way out.  A burning inferno waiting to happen. And no, I’m not on about a case of chlamydia.

A conveniently placed bar stood at the far end of a dance floor.  I say "dance floor" but it was more like a human dodgems ride, where you were frequently shoulder to shoulder and bouncing off people far more inebriated than yourself.  Alcohol spillage was highly likely.  Any diligent attempts to navigate your way to the bar without a variety of suspicious looking liquids ending up all over your person and your shoes was impossible.  Speaking of shoes, you never wore a decent pair to Gold, the next day they'd resemble a Jackson Pollock, but without the multi million pound resale value.

The close proximity of fellow drunk patrons and the minimal room for manoeuvre could work in your favour, as it facilitated proceedings in meeting the opposite sex and escalating events to close the deal. The bar's relaxed vibe had a tendency to make people less preoccupied about their own personal space being invaded and more open to starting up conversation with random strangers. Having said this, such close contact could also be a source of annoyance, with regular scuffles and fights occurring as people took umbrage at being bumped into for the millionth time that night and booze combined with too much testosterone led to words or fists being exchanged.  Most of the "fights" were fairly pathetic and never amounted to more than shoving and male posturing, conveniently concealing the fact that neither party really had the balls to escalate events to a real altercation.

Artwork courtesy of Aaron Cossrow @ http://sojuking.com/

There were countless times where verbal confrontations led to nothing, meaning that the real moments when things spilled over were relished.  Punches being thrown and bottles being broken:  This is what we came for.  Sadly, despite housing a clientele and exhibiting an ambience that wouldn't be out of place in the Mos Eisley cantina, the heights of a Han Solo vs. Greedo shoot out were never reached.  

  The Streets are Paved with Vomit Coated Gold.  

 The frequent lack of desire to escalate a scene from verbal to physical confrontation in Gold or any other dive bar in Korea for that matter, stemmed from the laws in place that awarded financial compensation or "Blood money" for any physical damages or injuries caused by another party.  

Upon my arrival I was told it was basically one million won ($1000) a punch.  And that's money for the victim receiving the right hook, not the aggressor. The law and the police force favoured this swifter fix of a monetary reward for "minor misdemeanours", over a lengthier, more time consuming process of a criminal prosecution.  So if you're going to really punch someone in the ROK, you'd better hope there's no CCTV or camera footage. Otherwise, you're pretty much fucked and can say goodbye to your job and visa.  The locals frequenting these grimier parts of town are well aware of the odds stacked in their favour: "The house always wins".

The Korean police for their part couldn't really care less if there was any Waygook vs. Waygook (외국  Korean for 'foreigner') beat down action.  They'd happily let it pass:  

"Go for it boys, beat the shit out of each other.  We’ll take the bets”.

"Blood money" was a concept that was far greater reinforced  by the cops when it came to Korean nationals. Due to this, you’d often spot certain Korean guys in Itaewon bars, usually older aged men (ajeossi), who much like an ambulance chasing lawyer, were looking for a quick claim and any excuse to start a fight. This was conducted with the full knowledge that any physical injury caused to them could potentially be a nice little top up on the monthly salaryman pay packet.  It didn't matter if they instigated any confrontation, what mattered was the injuries they received. Cheap booze, raging male hormones, intoxication...alongside fresh batches of newly arrived young American GIs doesn't exactly lead to rational thought or reasoning being applied to events.  The close proximity of the nearby US army base in Yongsan and the amount of English teachers living in the Itaewon area, meant the vomit coated side streets were paved with "No win, no fee" legal claims gold...if one went looking for it.   Which leads to a caveat to the throwing a punch rule: There didn’t even need to be video evidence for you to be fucked.  I've experienced, witnessed, even been told of countless occasions where a foreigner hasn't even provoked an incident, and yet the police believe the account being provided by the Korean involved and all their friends supporting the story.   And that's when you're really fucked, because there's nothing worse than potentially losing your job or being kicked out of a country, when you've gone to great lengths to avoid any provocation or retaliation.  If you're going to get smeared for the crime anyway, you might as well get your money's worth and leave a punch in.  

This is why, in its heyday, Gold Bar, was pretty refreshing. Most of the times, the bullshit that you'd encounter in other parts of Seoul's night life got left at the door. There were no pretensions to the place, it was a Dive bar, what Donny T would call a "shithole".   A place where people went to get pissed, have a laugh and easily pick up.  I genuinely lost count of the amount of away goals I scored there. I probably shouldn't try and work it out as it'll probably have me reaching for the Domestos.  

It was always a source of amusement to hear women lying to themselves and to the listener, by proclaiming "I only come to this place for the music". Which, if we switched genders, would sound as about as believable as a man justifying that he only watched porn for the “Terrific mise-en-scene and depth of field camera work". On one occasion I can remember finding a girls’ ID down the back of my bed, leaving it on my kitchen table and my mate remarking:  "Oh you met her too?  I banged her last month". That's the kind of refined place it was.  The music must have been amazing. 

Gold was also the kind of place where you could get a drink and for no extra charge, be entertained by a group of transgenders and their mama san, savagely head butting a dude acting drunk and belligerent.  Then...not content with that, repeatedly bottle him, and clearly still not satisfied with the extent of their work...remove their wigs and attempt to strangle him.   After the screams and shouts had settled, everything went back to normal.  

In witnessing that unrelenting, brutal attack, it gradually dawned upon me what Spandau Ballet had meant in their 1983 hit tribute 'Gold'.  During a tour of Korea in the early 1980's, they'd performed in Seoul and stumbled across this valuable little treasure trove of a venue.  It’s decadence had artistically inspired them. 

I fully took on board what the band members must have felt: For the limited time you were inside Gold, the dodgy toxicity levels of the alcohol, the synergy with the other drunks around you and the lethal amounts of dopamine flowing through your brain being waterboarded by Avicci songs, you  really felt you were “indestructible”. 

Even as you left to face the 5am, dawn of the dregs reality and commenced the walk of shame home:  past the puke, discarded nightclub flyers, half eaten kebabs and desperately trying to avoid eye contact with the morning commuters, as they judged your drunken state. The Gary Kemp and Co. lyrics would comfort and reassure you.  On you went, content, with their words ringing in your ears.

  "Gold, I'm glad that you're bound to return".

Soju Stories    Feb 2018

[powertogovern-blog]

Obama’s 2009 Inauguration Part 2

Inauguration Day, Part Duex The Ball!!

In my first post, I mentioned a special ticket I had to pick up at Union Station. That ticket was for the Western States Inaugural Ball that Michael purchased as a gift for me. (Note: This is a good time to point out that Michael was incredibly helpful and encouraging of my solo trip to the inauguration. Large crowds (and even small crowds) are anathema to Mike, but he wholly understands my social needs and my political addictions. As he said, “one of us has to be there, and it has to be you. Go, have a great time and tell me all about it when you get home.”)

For the uninitiated, the Presidential Inauguration is celebrated at a number of Balls. Many states have societies which host the Balls. The Western States Ball hosts guests from California, Nevada, Washington, Oregon, Colorado, and more. This year, there were ten “official” Balls which President and Mrs. Obama were expected to visit, and about twice that many unofficial Balls. Tickets to all the events sold out in a day or two, and the black or grey market for tickets was robust. Resale tickets to the Illinois and Hawaii Balls were going for as much as $10,000 each 3 days before the event. The ticket to the Western States Ball was a whopper, though not $10k. Michael, thank you!

Act One: The Washington Convention Center After a day of amazing ups and downs; a day of long lines and massive crowds and emotional highs too extreme to be quantified, I finally slumped onto the sofa of my rented condo at 5:00 PM. But by then there were already long lines of high-heeled, black-tied guests queuing to attend one of the four (or more?) Balls being held in the Washington Convention Center and I couldn’t rest.

Since the Ball doors opened at 6:00 PM and the festivities started at 8:00, I figured I was safe taking my time to enjoy a very long hot shower and preparing for the Ball. After all, it was only ½ block from my condo…I could see the building from my window! I also gambled that a later arrival would avoid some of the queue.

Stepping outside at 7:00 in my gown and sandals, I was gloating to myself that I only had a half-block to walk in the now-even-colder weather. And it appeared that my gamble was paying off: the queue had indeed evaporated and I cruised right to the front door. But wait! Not so fast, sistah. Each of the Balls had its own security entrance to the Convention Center. It just so happens that the Western States Ball entry was on the opposite side of the Convention Center – as far from where I was standing as it could be and still be in the same building. So, a walk of 4 really big city blocks in 12* weather in high heels and a strappy gown finally got me to the correct entrance. (Yes of course I had a coat on, but no long underwear. Once again I found myself yearning for Ruth’s fur coat).

Act Two: The Ball The Western States Ball was held in a cavernous room in the basement of the convention center. There were many stations for drink ticket sales, bars, Presidential shwag, buffet tables, and a large stage on either side of the room. The room was draped in deep blue and large inaugural seals hung everywhere…For my Truckee-Tahoe friends, this was Cadillac Ball on steroids, right down to the photographer taking shots of couples against an “inaugural backdrop.” For a small fee, of course!

If you’ve watched any TV in the last 2 months, you’ve been inundated by offers to buy “official Obama commemorative fill-in-the-blank” goods. The running joke in our home is the Obama Plate…even as I write this, I am looking for just the right plate to bring home to Michael. Well, the Ball had several tables of shwag to buy, but of course, this was “official Presidential Inaugural” shwag, not that cheap stuff you can get on TV. (Which gets me to wondering: who sanctions this stuff officially? Is that a Cabinet post?) There were inaugural plates, but they didn’t say Obama or even have a picture of him, t-shirts, paperweights, and something that may have been a money clip. It did seem a bit…well, cheesy to me, but that was not going to take the shine off the evening.

I wandered from station to station (the food was mediocre – it could not have come from California), struck up a few conversations, and danced with a herd of little old ladies in the front of the dance floor. These LOLs in their gold lame’ could shake a major tail feather and we had a blast dancing to mostly Motown covers. A highlight? A cover of “I will survive” pointed directly at George W. Bush…that rocked the dance floor!

Act Three: The Guests Finally, you’re thinking, she’s going to tell us about the celebrities! Well ok, but it’s a bit of a let down. Someone near me said “Denzel” and I nearly fainted, but that turned out to be a rumor. I saw Tyra Banks (and let me tell you that girl is TALL with a capital T). Dancing to the opening band I sighted a few politicos I recognized but could not recall their names. Marc Anthony was the headline musician, and his wife Jennifer Lopez (J Lo) was in the crowd about 20 feet in front of me. Near the end of his concert, she joined him on stage for a duet. I got some fuzzy pictures but you have to look hard to see that the back of that woman’s head just could be J Lo. I heard the Governator was there or coming, but I never saw him or the crowd of security and acolytes you would expect to see surrounding him.

Oh, wait, you’re not looking for sub-lebrities. You want to hear about the real headliners, don’t you?!

Act Four: The President Lucy, a precious metal broker from SoCal, was on the dance floor next to me during the Marc Anthony concert. Her mom was watching the inaugural events on CNN and calling Lucy on her cell phone every time the President left one Ball for another. Apparently the Obamas had already been in the convention center that night for 2 other Balls, and had left to attend others. But the plan (it was posted on Obama’s web site) was that the Obamas would come back to the convention center where our Ball would be the 7th stop out of the 10 Balls they planned to visit.

Once again I found myself squished, this time on the dance floor. But armed with high heels I could take off and swing, and feeling confident I could easily take the 70-year old man to my left, I didn’t panic (although in truth my ribs still hurt from injuries sustained earlier in the day). I danced in place next to Lucy as long as I could to get her mom’s updates but eventually we were separated. As the hour drew late, I worried I may not make it until the Obama’s arrival. But just when I thought I would throw in the towel, things started popping. (I had just run off to the ladies room and missed the Bidens but tunneled my way back into the crowd) I asked the very tall man directly in front of me if he would take some pictures with my camera. He was unenthusiastic but agreed. Security came in, folks couldn’t come or go, and the Obamas arrived on stage! Yow!

I could not hear a thing for the roar of the people around me, but once again I found myself immersed in the electricity of the day. Everyone there had to be as physically exhausted as I was, yet we amped up as though we’d had an instantaneous, simultaneous injection of Red Bull and espresso. It was a sort of endorphin flashback, and I was once again overwhelmed with the enormity of the day. Everyone in that room was invested in this Presidency and you could feel it. Obama stayed with his theme that in order to succeed, we would all need to participate. I’m in! Sign me up!

As you probably saw on CNN, the President made some comments and interacted with the crowd. He and Michelle danced (and I later learned that “At Last” was the song at all of the Inaugural Balls for the Presidential dance). Michelle Obama was stunning. In person she’s even prettier than on TV and her dress was amazing. The electricity you see between them on TV is real, and what a delight to see first-hand what appears to be a happy, functional family in the White House.

(Unfortunately, the unenthusiastic man in front of me “forgot” to take pictures with my camera while the President was on stage. I did get my camera back after Obama left but devoid of any pictures of our new President and his wife. I couldn’t muster up any anger; maybe the man really did forget, maybe he was embarrassed by the idea…I don’t know. But being angry would not have gotten my pictures and would have been a buzz-kill.)

Once the President and Mrs. Obama left our Ball it was time for me to split. There were some logistical issues with this, too, as the Obamas were still somewhere in the center. As luck would have it, the only exit we were permitted to use spit me out closest to my condo, so it was just ½ block to bed. Sleep, however, was hours off.

Inaugural Day: Epilogue

Experiencing this event first hand was an extraordinary opportunity. I only regret that I don’t have the vocabulary to paint a better picture with my words; that I cannot adequately express my feelings from the day. Someone asked me today how I could consider that day one of the best of my life when I actually feared for my life at one point. Well, I guess I have two answers: one, I did live and there’s nothing better than living when you think you might not. Two, that I see that day as a best in spite of my scary experience and injuries may help illustrate the level of positive emotional intensity surrounding the inauguration of Barack Obama.

There were many frustrations the inauguration attendees experienced. Long lines, cold weather, being turned away, misdirection, lack of cooperation or communication among law enforcement…and there was more to come. Closed Metro stations, a clogged airport, missed flights and road closures that went on long after the event all could have been bruises on the day, and would have been scars that lingered on any other day.

But not on this day. And that above all should say something about the generous people around me and their spirit. The unifying force of positive energy reassured me that Americans can and will meet the current challenges and rise to meet our potential. It told me that after all, I can still have faith in humanity, faith in my country. This experience reinforced to me that we can live in a great nation as long as we participate. After all, it was the people that voted Barack Obama into office; the people that made the day special; and the people that helped one another when things got bad.

Now, if I can just find that plate…