4:00 - Our friend Ashley wakes up, too excited to sleep.

4:45 - Our cousin David wakes up because "this is the most important inauguration ever, next to George Washington's."

5:00 - Jennie and Brad wake up, and knowing that I must walk the dogs, I ask to sleep in for five more minutes. This is not to say I am not excited, just very cold and apathetic to the dogs' needs.

6:15 - We leave my cousin's house in Georgetown and head over to the Metro in Rosslyn, VA.

6:25 - Parking isn't much of a problem, though it is confusing because of the many road closures on the VA side of DC. We get on the Metro. It's busy.

7:00 - We get off the Metro...35 minutes later on what would normally be a 5 minute ride.

8:00 - We arrive at the corner of 14th and Constitution... 2 blocks from where we stepped off the Metro. A thronging mass of people restricts movement across the street as well as one inch in any direction. We befriend the people near us. We're surprised to see no one has much to complain about as we stand waiting for direction for the next ½ hour with no explanation as to why we are not moving. It is extremely easy to find a fast friend when you are nestled under their armpit in 20 degree pre-dawn weather.

8:27 - We find a spot east of 12th St on the Mall. The 8 blocks in front of us where non-ticketed attendees are permitted to stand is already packed with people 3 ½ hours before the event. We are excited to be located in front of a Jumbotron. We jump around, singing "Lean On Me," with a few of our millions of like-minded friends replayed from the Inaugural Concert on said Jumbotron, just so happy to have made it.

8:30-10:03 - We hang out with new friends from Virginia, Florida, and sections of the Northeast, discussing the extent to which each was involved with Obama's campaign and sharing ground space that we've spoken for. Suddenly the people standing next to us feel like distant extended family. All we need is one commonality to believe we are connected. In between the end of the concert reply and beginning of inaugural festivities, the screen projects images of us, the crowd. We are humbled by our mass. Not having realized that while we reflected on the past couple years, the millions that were predicted to attend were herding in. The San Francisco Boys and Girls Choirs perform to open the Inauguration celebration. As dignitaries and elected officials start filing in after that, and while we stop keeping track of time, there are some very memorable entrances. Among them, cheers from the crowd for Al Gore, Ted Kennedy, the Clintons, Colin Powell, Jimmy Carter, Sandra Day O'Connor, and Michelle, Sasha, and Malia Obama. The crowd doesn't seem sure about how to react to Rick Warren, but when both Bush families arrive, people either ignore them or boo loudly.

12:00 - The swearing in of Barack Hussein Obama, 44th President of the United States, officially begins. Obama seems nervous and stumbles over the first part of the swearing-in, and in the crowd, people let out a smile or giggle. Michelle Obama cries as she holds Lincoln's Bible. Honestly, the moment doesn't seem perfect but it's a rare window into the humanity of a man that so many have built up to be a demi-god. But it is the small things that don't go according to plan that make things memorable. Obama recovers his composure and delivers his Inaugural Address without a hitch, bringing some in the crowd to tears, some to cheers, but all smiling wildly as history unfolds in front of them.

After the address, many in the crowd start leaving, but without specific instructions as to where to go, or which Metro stations are closed, a slow quiet chaos ensues. There are no fights, there are no riots, and there are few swear words. In fact, for all the confusion, for all the misdirection, rumors, and porta-potty prophets (some people took advantage of the abundance of Andy Gumps to "get a perspective" but they never really knew what was going on), the only complaining is in mild jest, and the angriest shouts were simply inquiries about the status of the trains in the Metro: "Is the f*****g Metro running or not?" This is okay, because most of us are wondering the same thing and a slight hush falls over the crowd as we wait to hear if a uniformed someone responds with an answer.

After we resign ourselves to the fact that we are not going to leave the same way we came, things go smoothly. In fact, the obstacles that we overcame that morning we would later recall as a breeze compared to the near aimless wandering that was unfolding before us. First, we head to 12th Street to get on Constitution Ave to pick up the Metro to Rosslyn at Federal Triangle. Unfortunately, but predictably, Constitution Ave is closed for the parade. We retreat to the last known open crossing, 14th St and Constitution, to find it in the same state. After speaking with an Army soldier, we come to realize that the fastest way out is across the National Mall and a long walk to Farragut West. His exact advice, and the only advice we get is simply "Follow the crowd." Farragut West is not ridiculously far, but at what we determine is "Inauguration Shuffle" speed, it takes us 60 minutes to walk less than a mile. We are herded over barricades, across streets, over trampled vines, between porta-potties, and through planters in what we later realize is a giant figure 8. The mass moves blessedly free of injury thanks in large part to dozens of people calling out "Curb!!" over curbs and extending a hand during barricade straddling. Just west of the Washington Monument, we are no longer corralled by the military. Our 4 person group is spit out of the thronging mass one by one. We finally wander into the vast trampled pasture of the National Mall and, slack-jawed and wobbling, migrate through what might have been - in another time and place - a refugee camp. Morale is high, but we are beginning to realize that our bodies are freezing cold. At the far end of the Mall, we cross over a chain link fence which was likely not designed to be walked upon. Now face to face with the Inaugural Parade, the majority of our challenges are closed roads and oncoming traffic. One word: Frogger.

Once we get to Farragut West, we find that it is impassible. Plan B is out. Plan C is a walk to Foggy Bottom in Georgetown, but from about a quarter mile away, we realize that it is just as packed, and there's no guarantee that it works. Plan Z, our "last resort under all circumstances," is to walk all the way back to Rosslyn, VA. That's right, an interstate stroll. The tax rate where we stop to buy coffee in Georgetown is different than the rate we buy groceries at. And we're off.

Please find attached a MapMyRun screen capture of the 5.25 mile route we took to and from the Inauguration. On foot.

And so it is that, 4 hours after making the decision to leave the Inauguration, and now very cold and very tired, we finally arrive back at the house in Georgetown, still numb from the bitter winter chill, the massive swarms of people, and the immensity of what we just experienced, to sit around the fireplace, hot cocoa in hand, shoes off, and heads back while a hot meal cooks in the kitchen and a new president sits in the Oval Office.

After two day's blissful congregating, we encountered the extremists, who arrived in full force today. Activist groups on the far ends of the political spectrum filled the streets, specifically the parade route, with banners, flyers, swag, and the second-rate propaganda that, while certainly representative of the dedication to the cause these groups have, invites a certain scrutiny that leaves you smirking or astonished. Since I couldn't/didn't/wouldn't concern myself with the actual names of these organizations, you'll just have to go along with fictionalized names I came up with after observing them.

NOTE: Excuse me for what I intend to be a good-natured ribbing of a few groups we ran into.

In front of the White House, where Barack Obama's parade viewing booth has been constructed, the Arrest-Bush-for-War-Crimes Group was posted and members were distributing literature admonishing Inauguration visitors to "hold Bush accountable" for the crimes of the Iraqi War. Hey, don't get me wrong, I was against the war before it was cool to be against the war, and frankly, I'm not going to spend a lot of energy on this one. I voted for the guy who was also against the war when it wasn't cool to be against the war, so I think I've done my part. Moving on.

The next prominent group was the Obama's-Change-Isn't-Radical-Enough-For-Us Front, whose members were competing for attention in front of the viewing stand. Honestly, I don't know how they could have hoped to - the Arrest-Bushes' mascot was pretty overwhelming. Plus, they had Death on their side. All these guys had was a stack of sunshine yellow half-sheets of literature outlining their gripes - but not including actual solutions. Second-rate protest, at its best.

The Union-Of-Culture-Theft-For-The-Purpose-Of-Flipping-Bush-The-Bird Protesters were just a few steps from the aforementioned group, and a number of supporters had thrown their shoes at, but not to or on, the gates some hundreds of yards from the White House. A demonstrator read off the names of the U.S. military servicemen and servicewomen who had been killed during fighting in the Middle East. It may have been Iraq only, or Afghanistan and Iraq, but when asked, the UoCTftPoFBtB couldn't tell us. I guess it wasn't important to them.

I should be clear, and to any reading these correspondences, heed this: I am all about free speech, and I personally feel that the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have been grossly mishandled. But there's something about these kinds of demonstrations that leave a foul taste in my mouth. Perhaps it is the underlying assumption that working WITH people is futile, or that those with moderate views are "cop-outs." Most irritating, however, was how it seemed these groups were attempting to pirate Obama's victory and use this historic time as a launch pad for their own ideas. It was however very encouraging to see that the vast majority of the crowds gathered largely ignored the extremist types. We're here to watch history be made - to take a breath and celebrate the wonder of a national accomplishment. Of course there are marches to be made, and there are issues to protest, but most of us recognize that it is through tempered and thoughtful unity that real change will be achieved.

I can't think of a clever segue to our last extremist organization, so I'll just juxtapose the next group against my last point. They don't need an introduction, I think.

If there's one group of people who have routinely found themselves outside of the political and social norm, it has always been the Doomspeakers. Posted in the background of an MSNBC broadcast booth, a few activists concerned themselves not with global politics, but our eternal souls. God bless them for trying. Of all the groups we saw today, the one that got the least respect (or more to the point, the most disrespect) were a few soldiering souls holding the perennially-celebrated "Doomsday/Salvation" posters.

Apparently Obama is so popular that the Son of God actually has to compete. It's a real shame, too, because I kind of like Jesus.

In my Bible, Isaiah 55:6-7 reads, "Seek the Lord while he may be found; call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the Lord, that he may have compassion on him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon." I'm no Biblical scholar, but I think something is been lost in the translation here, because not only do these folks think JESUS spoke in Isaiah, but it seems he used much less compassionate language.

It appears that there are two masses assembling in Washington, D.C. this weekend. The first, and by a wide margin the smaller, are handfuls of college students and Democratic Party loyals pouring into the Capitol with itineraries authored by the Obama Campaign Team. They'll stay in hotels, attend various meetings, and apparently have their meals comped. On the connecting flight from Memphis to Reagan Airport, a row of these individuals sat behind us, acquainting themselves with each other, some more eagerly than others, but all connected by a singular thread.

We are in the other group: a thronging mass, rumored to number in the millions, some without reservations, many without admission tickets, and most without obvious connections to the larger group.

Camped out against a window in the back of the A320 from Memphis, I initially lamented my plight. Why didn't I have the foresight to book reservations with the Obama organization? Where is my officially-licensed economy hoodie? Where are my built-in friends and where is my itinerary? Why isn't someone else making sure I will have a good time?

Once it became clear that some people had buses and trams waiting for them off the plane, I got to envying Them - you know, Those People with Privileges. But now that I think about it, great privilege often comes with great stress, so in the end, a privilege is little more than someone else's regular day. And maybe there is no Them - since they are like us. Maybe there is only Us.

Well, Dennert ( Note from Brian: Brad you keep calling me Dennert and the dry erase markers in your room will "disappear"), I can't speak for the whole, but as for myself, I've been having a great time since November. I have millions of friends across this great nation, and while I didn't book fare with the Obama Team, I've got an itinerary just the same. Best of all, I'm connected to virtually every visitor to D.C. by a even greater bond - I voted for Barack Obama, and I have come to watch history be made. And when the cheers go up around the city, and when they echo across the nation, I will be in the middle of it, I will be part of it.