Day Two. Road to the Whitehouse: Sage the Pain Away
Gay Place correspondent Dacia Saenz's inaugural inauguration experiences, day two.
By Dacia Saenz,
3:07PM, Wed. Jan. 28, 2009
Inauguration Eve held the same kinetic energy as Christmas Eve, circa 1985 did for me. Having been roasting in ex-Hell all day, I rushed into lezzie comedian Kate Clinton's fantabulous Saging of the White House celebration at Dupont Circle with added enthusiasm. Saging away the evils of the past was clearly key to moving forward into the new dawn of hope and social consciousness. I took refuge in the thick clouds of smoke that hundreds of revelers were puffing into the crisp night, bathing in the deliciously gay dance party that was in full throttle. Obamamania had transformed us all into disco divas, feeling "Mighty Real" because Sylvester said so.
Some in the crowd (read: me) were in the mood for a little more violent way to shed the past though.
Luckily, I found a 25-foot blow-up Bush Doll at which to launch my frustrations and hundreds of shoes.
I also got a chance to kick it with peace activist, Jamilla El-Shafei, the genius behind the cathartic, shoe-heaving spectacle who informed me that The Smithsonian had just asked to house her brainchild for posterity. Now that's Proper!
Still hiding from the ex-factor, I made my way over to the lovely Code Pink ladies (for reporting purposes only, I swear) to get the digs on their goals and mission for the next four years. Code Pink activist, Sally Newman, vowed to hold President Obama's feet to the fire for all he promised during his campaign, and eloquently schooled me on the economics of war. HAWT.
Things were winding down when a lovely angel, Gabe Radeka, caught my eye, and handed me two Yay! Gay! Stickers with instructions to wear them in solidarity during Rick Warren's prayer the next day (which my girl, Darcy and I rocked on CNN at the Inaugs). She led me over to her comrades, Becca and Caitlin, who greeted me with a Starbucks cup brimming with red wine. Ahh just what I needed. Smiling faces, optimistic rabble-rousers, and libations to keep the cold (and the drama) at bay!
Sayonara to the bone-headed, bull honkey of yesterday! Peace out, W!
Only one more night to endure psychic warfare.