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POLITICS & COMMUNITY by al hoff	Anybody can watch the Inaugural festivities on TV. Lucky souls jet off to the nation's capital where, after having purchased expensive tickets to official inaugural events... they watch it all on TV, too. Al "Girl Reporter" Hoff investigates. Besides being actually on the swearing-in dais, the dreamiest date to have in Washington on Inaugural Day is a ticket to one of the Inaugural balls. For $150, one has the privilege of dressing up in black tie or gown and attending one of 15 "exclusive" balls held in Washington D.C.'s biggest indoor caverns -- like hotel convention rooms, the train station, or the bleak D.C. Armory. The much-ballyhooed Inaugural balls are shunned by true insiders, but excitedly attended by out-of-towners eager to have a little Capitol glamour for one night. The balls are, in essence, the biggest prom ever. There is no food, seating, or smoking. Couples pose for photos beneath a backdrop of the Inaugural seal. The event is heavily chaperoned by police, Secret Service, and temps dressed in tuxedos who are forever double-checking your ticket. A succession of bad bands play. There is little to do but wait. For what? For the Big Moment when the President drops by, of course, that small fraction of history when you and the Leader of the Free World will be in the same room together! This year, I finagled free tickets to the "Main Event" Inaugural Ball, attended primarily by supporters from Arkansas. It was also the largest: Thousands of people were crammed into the D.C. Convention Center. The warehouse expanse of the hall had been dimly lit, re-draped, and cordoned off to provide the intimate feel of a series of interconnected cocktail parties. Although it was possible to forget that this was usually just a big concrete room that teamsters back semi trucks into, the re-arrangement drastically reduced the visibility of the main stage.
Without pausing for a moment, I did what nearly every other red-blooded American in the hall did: I turned my back on the President.	When President Clinton eventually took the stage, I knew he was nearly two full city blocks away (though technically within the same four walls as me.) Between the distance, the crowds, and the big hairdos, I could barely see the stage. But without pausing for a moment, I did what nearly every other red-blooded American in the hall did: I turned my back on the President. I turned my back and watched Clinton greet the crowd and waltz with his wife and daughter -- on a giant screen TV. To make matters worse, in order to maintain security the media had been relegated to a small grandstand to the left of the stage, ensuring a fixed one-angle camera shot. Several times, the gleeful Clintons waltzed right out of the camera frame, leaving us to ponder the foolish face of Kenny G instead. This was it: The Big Moment these people had paid $150 apiece for, and there they were watching big screen TV -- and not even good TV! More alarmingly, nobody seemed to mind. Once people had located the nearest TV screen to them, they simply stood and stared at it placidly. Nobody craned their necks for even the teeniest glimpse of the President with their own eyes, free of electronic manipulation. No one grumbled that their money and privilege should have afforded them a close-up encounter with the President. I knew that the answer to their hometown's question, "Did you see the President?" would be "Yes!" (Not, "Well, I saw him on TV!")
Tripod sent a photographer down to the Inauguration as well: To see what befell him, click here!	The best seat in the house? For me, it was leaning over the escalator railing of the main exit. I saw everybody go by, one at a time. I eyeballed every sequin, and marveled at each hairdo. And no, President Clinton didn't leave via the mortals' exit, but actor Michael Douglas did pass by a mere five feet beneath my perch -- and he's played the president. He looked relaxed, happy, well-coiffed -- and shorter than he appears on TV. Al "Girl Reporter" Hoff is the editor and publisher of Thrift SCORE!, the preeminent thrifting zine in the world. The gold Lurex pantsuit she wore to the Ball cost her a mere $3.95 (and set off the metal detector). © 1997 Al Hoff, All Rights Reserved.