What Real Washingtonians Are Doing Today
A D.C. resident gives the inside skinny
-Michele Woodward, Your Career Coach
I’ve lived in Washington, DC for too many years to count. Suffice it to say — elementary school, high school, local university, seven residences, countless jobs… all right here in the DC area.
So, what am I (and countless of my DC friends) going to be doing for the Inauguration? What every other Real Washingtonian does.
Real Washingtonians don’t have to fight for swearing-in tickets — they have a buddy who can score VVIP, seated, HEATED tickets. For free.
Real Washingtonians say no to their buddy’s VVIP tickets and stay home on January 20th.
Real Washingtonians laugh at the people who think Inaugural balls are swanky and exclusive. We know they are crowded-overpriced-no food-cheap-wine-in-plastic-cups-bad music-lost-coat-$500-a-ticket moshes held in rooms with all the aesthetic allure of Costco. As Nancy Reagan instructed, we “just say no.”
Real Washingtonians host their own swanky and exclusive Inaugural parties — and other Washingtonians are invited.
Real Washingtonians have houseguests on January 20th.
Real Washingtonians avoid the Metro on January 20th, but give their houseguests a fare card and a system map.
Real Washingtonians know you stand to the right and pass on the left. We tell our houseguests that, too.
Real Washingtonians go to the grocery store on January 20th.
Real Washingtonians watch the festivities on TV and say, “Oh, look. There’s Jim.” Who’s the Secret Service agent to the President’s left. And their kids’ soccer coach.
My Inauguration Day plan is to light a fire in the fireplace, make a really scrumptious lunch and watch the swearing in on the big screen. I may even stay in my jammies. Chocolate may feature. And, after the speechmaking is done, I might just even sneak in an itsy-bitsy nap.
No, there will be no crowds, no cold, no ball gown, no teeming masses yearning to sit down for me. It’ll be just me, my kids and the remote.
That’s all I need — to watch history being made once again just three miles from my front door. Now, that’s what being a Real Washingtonian is all about.