No Balls for Shiny

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I was this close to attending an inaugural ball this evening!

Well, kind of.  It was the MetromixAll-American Ball — with five live bands, four DJs, all-you-can-eat buffet and open bar, and appearances by people with fascinating names like “Ne-Yo” and “Buzz Aldrin.”  One of the bands is called “Low-Stars,” and features two of the members of Counting Crows! (Neither of them are the lead singer white guy with the silly looking dreadlocks.)

And I was only a sliver of a chance away from attending — because I had entered an on-line drawing for a pair of tickets to this sold-out event this past Friday.  The winner was notified yesterday afternoon at 12:00. I was sure it would be me.

But — what if it were me?  Would I be able to actually attend? Would I be able to turn around in 33 hours and make it there?  It would be tough…

You see, DC was a madhouse today. People started boarding Metro (our subway) trains at about 4am. Our system does not run 24 hours a day, and even with the systemwide hour head start, the transit system was clogged. Parking lots and garages at the terminii of each of the Metro lines were nearly full by 6am. Trains were packed around then as well. People waited in the bitter cold outside of the stations just to get in. And once travelers arrived at their destination stations — if they could actually get out if the station hadn’t been shut down due to overcrowding, it was another few hours to walk anywhere through the sea of people.  I don’t think that anyone has a true figure of how many people were downtown to witness President Obama’s inauguration, but some experts have put the number at about 13.5 million. (Granted these people aren’t really experts in counting. Their subject matter expertise ranges from rampant drug use to endurant whining.)

So — public transit would be a tough one. I’d probably have to take a taxi in since most of the roads are still blocked off to vehicular traffic. Or I could take a bus, I suppose, but I would fear that it would clash with my “creative black tie” ensemble.

From the Ball’s FAQ:

What does “Creative Black Tie” mean?
Guests generally tend to dress to impress.  Typically men wear either a tuxedo or a suit, while women generally wear either gowns or cocktail dresses.  Everyone always looks fantastic and all are invited to get a little “creative” and display their patriotism.

Perhaps I was a bit intrigued by “eveyone always looks fantastic.” If that is truly the case, I suppose everyone would be wearing a Hypercolor t-shirt or an oversized Benneton sweatshirt. That was truly a fantastic time in my life where I felt that everything and everyone was beautiful.  Puberty was a friendly demon to me at that time…  Oh, and a fedora. Also fantastic looking.

And if I went? What would I say to Buzz Aldrin if I met him?  How would I take on that frightening social situation?  Loud parties are hard enough since my hearing is pretty shot, but with an older gentleman like Mr. Aldrin it probably would be tougher as he’s known in his circles as an avid mumbler:

*mumblemumblemumble*

“Hey! You’re Buzz Aldrin! I’m Shiny.  I’ve never been to the moon. Big fan…”

*mumblemumblemumblemumblemumblemumble*

“I know, right? It is a rocking party! Have you been drinking, man? Flying up high into proverbial space?”

*mumblemumblemumble*

“Yeah. I think they’re called ‘Lowstars.’  They’re supposed to be good. Apparently they have two members of Counting Crows in the band.”

*mumblemumblemumble*

“No. He’s not one of them. Two other guys from the band.”

*mumblemumblemumble*

And so on…

Anyway — I guess it’s for the best that I didn’t get picked to attend. Instead, I can sit back and smile, thinking of the poor schmoes who won’t have any clue how to get back home after their balls have dropped.

I just hope Ne-Yo has enough money for bus fare…

(True story: I was very close to going to the Youth Inagural Ball at Clinton’s 1993 Inauguration. I had a tux rented and everything! A fight with my then girlfriend whisked that event away from me mere hours before it was to start. But that’s a story for another day…)