Oh, Uber drivers.

You come across some crazy characters when traveling. You can learn a lot from people when you least expect it, if you only take a moment to listen. Everyone, even people you meet in passing, has a story to tell. I’ve met some of the most interesting people through ride-sharing. Here are the highlights.

Sonder – noun. The realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.

The five Uber drivers you meet on the road and what you’ll learn from them.

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The Knights Templar Rocker in Bratislava

Flixbus Bratislava Flixbus Prague honest Flixbus Review is Flxbus reliable

You won’t remember a time when you’ve been more scared. You see him on the side of the road, across from the Bratislava bus station. You demand he pull up to meet you because you don’t want to cross a busy street. You immediately regret it.

He angrily u-turns. You can hear the heavy metal music when he’s still 200 feet away.  His bright red car might as well have been stained with the blood of his enemies. When he jumps out of the front seat, he’s way taller than you expected. He’s hefty. His dark gray hair is carved into spikes on the top of his head.

You ride without speaking. You’ll pretend it’s because of the language barrier. You don’t speak Slovak. But the metal he’s blasting is in English, which he clearly understands. You just don’t know what to say to this Uber driver. There’s a Templar cross hanging from his rearview mirror. You’ll convince yourself later that there was probably a sword in the trunk.

When he drops you off at the Most SNP bus stop in Bratislava, you leap from the car in relief, even if your new location is under a sketchy concrete bridge.

What you learn: Never demand anything from someone over the phone. Be polite. Ask nicely. Because they might have a sword in their trunk.

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The Despacito Repeater in Vienna

airline connections short connections tight connections

You’ve had a long day exploring Schönbrunn Palace. You hop in an Uber because your feet are swollen and the idea of walking all the way back to the S-Bahn station makes you want to cry. Despacito is playing. You think, “Oh, I love this song!” You and your friend even sing along.

I don’t know the words, so I sing poquito.

I don’t know the words, so I sing Dorito.

I don’t know the words, so I sing contingooooo.

The song fades out. Then sharply back in.

Come and move that in my direction…

Odd, you think. Maybe it’s just his phone playing the song again. But then it comes on again. In English. In French. In Arabic. In a language you don’t even recognize. By the time you arrive home, your ears are bleeding. “Never again,” you mumble. You hear Despacito rev up again as he drives away. You clammer into the building.

What you learn: The maximum time that a human being can listen to Despactio in one sitting is considerably less than eleven plays.

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The Lobbyist in DC

What was it like at Trump's inauguration how to get good inauguration tickets

Washington, DC. 5PM. Thursday, the day before Trump’s inauguration. You go to Georgetown in the middle of the afternoon because the dress rental company screwed up your order for the inaugural ball you’re due to attend and you’re desperate to find a replacement.

You struck out and are in near tears with nothing to wear and the fanciest event of your life starts in three hours. Then your fairy godfather appears. He offers to take you to CVS to buy some safety pins and suggests ways of pinning the dress up so it still looks nice. He takes shortcuts to try and beat the DC traffic and tells you stories of fun things to do in the area.

He asks you why you’re in town. For the inauguration, you say. There’s a lull in the conversation.

He takes a deep breath. “So, did you attend a lot of Trump’s rallies before coming up?”

“Omg no,” you immediately reply. “He’s the worst. I’m just here to report.”

The mood lightens up right away.

“Oh, I guess now I can speak freely.”

You learn his heart is really in data collection and communication. He’s poured his life savings and energy into a company that’s completely on hold because of the change in administrations. No one knows what Trump’s stances and priorities are.

Your ride is well over an hour because of DC traffic. The last quarter mile takes 30 minutes, but you don’t get out to walk. You’re invested in this conversation. This man is your friend now.

What you learn: You can get along with more people than you think if you’re actually brave enough to start a conversation. New friends are everywhere.

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The Mario Cart Racer in San Jose

travel burnout tired of traveling

Most of the Uber drivers you’ve had in your life can actually drive. But you’ve never been as distressed as when you hopped into this man’s tiny car in San Jose. Even Knights Templar rocker was able to stay on the road, so you’re in completely uncharted territory as you grip your seat, dodge bananas, and try to nab power ups on the Costa Rican highway.

You’re on your way to pick up your rental car, but the lack of solid addresses in the Costa Rican capital cause you to circle the block no less than four times. Your driver begins to get irritated because you don’t know where the buisness is. You try to explain that you’ve never been here before. This makes him madder.

You almost roll backwards into a ditch and run over a dog before finally spotting the rental car sign. You swear you can hear the Hallelujah Chorus. You’ve barely shut your door before he speeds away.

What you learn: Life is precious and can end at any time. There are also things scarier than being bitten by an iguana in Costa Rica.

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The Silent Type in Amsterdam

Study Abroad Bucket List: The Ultimate European Scavenger Hunt

It’s 3:30AM. The woman in your dorm has been snoring at top speed for nearly six straight hours. You are covered in bedbug bites. Your flight to London is at 7:00AM, but you decide to leave for the airport now because this is one of the most uncomfortable sleeping situations you’ve ever been in.

You use the remnants of the hostel wifi to call your ride. It’s only September, but Amsterdam is freezing in the middle of the night. As you stand next to the canal, shivering, itchy, and exhausted, your ride arrives.

It’s warm in the car. He’s softly playing classical music. He greets you with a smile, puts your suitcase in the trunk, and then doesn’t speak to you again for the entirety of the ride.

You slip into a blissful 20 minute nap, so when you arrive at Schipol, all is well.


Your Uber Driver:


Your Uber Driver:

You: 5 stars!!

He’s one of your favorite Uber drivers ever.

What you learn: sometimes not talking at all is the best way to bless someone.

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Have you ever tried to have brunch in an abandoned building?

I did, at the Hungarian Embassy Washington DC.

Hungarian Embassy Washington

I was in DC for the inauguration and a quintessential thing to do there is crash an embassy for free alcohol. So, after spending the morning at the Women’s March, I met up with some friends and we tried to go to the Hungarian Embassy Washington DC for an event (and free mimosas).

But when we got there, not only was the building empty, but the gate was chained shut. And we were essentially in the middle of the woods.

As our Lyft driver disappeared down the road, my cheeks grew a little warm.

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Hungarian Embassy DC New Location

“Uhhh. Y’all. This is how horror movies start,” I laughed as we circled the dreary building, looking for an entrance. “The event was today, right?”

“Yeah,” my friend Smoky said, checking her phone. Her face turned red. “Y’all, we’re at the wrong place.”

By this point, standing in front of a dark building and hearing the eerie coo of doves in the distance, I had gathered that.

Turns out the event we were meant to attend was the Hungarian Washington Embassy DC’s new location in the center of the city. Near enough to Smoky’s home that we could’ve walked.

We immediately called another Lyft and within minutes were on our way back over the river and through the woods, leaving spookesville behind.

Thank God for smartphones, right?

I kept thinking about what would have happened in the days of yesteryear…seeing the cab disappear into the distance…having no idea where you are…with no way to contact help…when out of the corner of your eye you spot him…Shia LaBeouf.

New Location Hungarian Embassy DC

We were terribly underdressed when we arrived at the embassy, weaving between diplomats and fancy ladies in pearls while we were just trying to find some snacks.

I ran into a few friends from college, as DC is filled with young professionals it’s nearly impossible not to see someone you know at these things, and took solace in the fact that we were all not fancy.

That said, the brunch at the Hungarian Embassy Washington DC was delicious. The people were welcoming and made Smoky and I even more excited about our upcoming trip to Budapest.

Hungarian Embassy Washington DC New Location

The Hungarian Embassy Washington DC’s new building is lovely—we all felt right at home (if not a bit warm since there were so many people there to see its new location). But the best part?

The guard dog.

Hungarian Dog hungarian embassy washington dc

Smoky was trying to take a photo of the dog…but I thought she was taking a photo of me so I sat down and ruined her photo.

Hungarian Embassy Washington DC

Mop or dog

We didn’t feel 100% comfortable stuffing out faces amongst the aforementioned fancy ladies in pearls, so we stopped by one of the best places to eat in DC (besides Nandos of course): Ted’s Bulletin.

Known for its homemade pop tarts, Ted’s is a familyish-owned place with 1920’s décor and friendly vibe. There are a few locations sprinkled throughout the greater-DC area. It’s the best brunch in town.

New Location Hungarian Embassy Washington DC

Ted’s Bulletin Breakfast

Have y’all ever made a travel mistake? Arrived at 9:30PM instead of AM? Put in the wrong location? I’d love to hear about it. Thankfully the consequences for this brunch gone badly weren’t too high.

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New Location Hungarian Embassy Washington DC


I went to the Black Tie and Boots Texas State Society Inaugural Ball in January 2017. Here’s what happened:

Texans are my favorite kind of people, so it’s a good thing I spent inauguration eve with nearly 10,000 of them.

I’ve gained a little weight since college, so my red coat didn’t quite button, allowing the freezing Maryland air to envelop me as my friends and I darted down the block towards the Gaylord Hotel and Convention Center for the Texas State Society Black Tie & Boots Inaugural Ball.

Our Lyft driver dropped us at the end of the street to avoid the traffic. I called back “thanks” as I toddled on the concrete, not used to wearing heels. He flashed a smile and inched his way around the corner, perhaps to prepare himself for the morning.

Ah, the morning. Inauguration Day.

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Black Tie & Boots texas state society

the 1st of many!

My friend Smoky works for a senior senator and put in quite a bit of extra time to ensure the inaugural ticketing process ran smoothly for his constituents (that’s how we “scored” seated tickets for the actual ceremony), but many people (surprise, surprise) never materialized to actually pick up their tickets for the standing areas, so she was tasked with getting rid of them.

After handing a few to our Lyft driver, we arrived at the Texas State Society ball with dozens of them stuffed in her purse, determined to give them all away.

I felt a little bit like Santa Claus.

Black Tie & Boots texas state society

My dress from Rent the Runway! It was HUGE so I had to get creative with safety pins to get it to work.

While it was easier to take the Black Tie and Boots ball for what it was, a big party put on by the Texas State Society in DC regardless of who wins the White House, handing out the inauguration tickets inherently felt more political.

But it did give us some leverage.

We swiped some chairs from the first people we gave tickets to. I was crazy and wore blue suede heels without really breaking them in, so about 20 minutes after arriving it felt like there was glass attached to the balls of my feet.

While there were tables sprinkled throughout the Gaylord’s ballrooms, most of them were occupied with people chowing down on the available Tex-Mex (y’all, I must’ve eaten like 15 mini-burritos), so when I saw an empty seat, I pounced.

Black Tie & Boots texas state society

One of the lobbies at the Gaylord.

texas state society black tie & boots

Can you spot the photobomb

I sat down at a table with a pair of husbands whose wives were dancing and 100% would’ve gotten kicked out when they got back if Smoky hadn’t casually given them some tickets.

All of a sudden, they thought we were important. A man in the hallway pulled out a wad of 20’s thicker than my fist (which of course we didn’t accept) when he heard we had tickets, while another younger man chatted to us nearly non-stop for about 5 minutes, making us feel a bit trapped.

“Was he flirting?” Smoky asked.

“No, I think he thought we could do something for him,” another friend replied.

Jokes on him, though. He was talking to the least important group of people at the Texas State Society ball.. People who were wearing rented dresses, pinchy heels, and freely taking advantage of the open bar.

Black Tie & Boots texas state society

We’ve come a long way from prom, Smoky #GloUp

Black Tie & Boots Dresses texas state society

*ahem* please notice the Texas flags

There were a few actually important people there though, like a congressman I had campaigned for as a part of my government class in 2008. Little me had a huge crush on him. I remember thinking that he smelled really good, so I wobbled a little when I spotted him talking to a group of patrons nearby.

He greeted each of them, and somehow I got tacked onto the end of the introduction, like I was part of the group.

“Hi, Congressman,” I squeaked, sticking out a clammy hand.

I wanted to have an actual conversation (about what, I don’t know….my mind was filled with radio silence), but when he turned to my “companions” to begin talking about some school issue, I could only manage to stand there blankly smiling for a moment or two before had to just awkwardly side-step away from the conversation and back to my friends.

It wouldn’t have been too bad if I hadn’t run into him again and again throughout the ball getting “who the heck are you” looks each time.

Black Tie & Boots texas state society

100% full stalker mode

D.C. is filled with young people trying to make their mark on the world and so was the Black Tie and Boots ball. If you work for the government, or an organization that needs government funding support, a Texas State Society inaugural ball is a good place to network.

It’s also a great place to find a date (i.e. the highest concentration of motivated businessmen and suave military personnel probably anywhere).

Black Tie & Boots texas state society

Tired of acting fancy

Later in the evening, after the Beach Boys played and some widely entertaining swing dance groups tore up the dance floor (see below; how those girls manage those drops is beyond me) Donald Trump Jr. arrived to thunderous applause.

The majority of the people there fell into my demographic: straight, white, and probably evangelical in some way. At the time, before 45 had officially come to power, I felt more compelled to hear them out. Now, nearing the end of his first 100 days, I have less sympathy.

Black Tie & Boots texas state society

Jr. and co.

Jr. looks a little bit less like a serial killer than his younger brother, but being close enough to him that I could see the sweat on his forehead still gave me the creeps.

He spoke about his excitement around the evening and gratitude towards his father’s voters. He received an honorary Stetson and people laughed.

I thought about the words of a speaker earlier in the night.

“I know the Texas State Society Black Tie and Boots isn’t partisan, but can you just imagine how sick the other side feels right now?” The crowd cheered in response.

That was me.

I felt sick.

I went to find another mini-burrito.

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PS: I also went to the Women’s March on Washington in DC. 


The day after Trump’s inauguration, I went to the Women’s March on Washington.

what was it like at the women's march on Washington sign

Crass? Sure. But also in our president’s vocabulary.

I’m not sure if I would have gone to the local one if I was home in Houston, but I felt like the DC gathering was a movement I needed to see since I was there.

I’ve seen some media that I respect (obviously not too mainstream) portray the march as a solely anti-Trump, pro-abortion rally featuring deranged women terrorizing the streets of DC. While there was certainly a lot of distain for Trump and his big, dangerous mouth there (especially from the celebrity speakers who I couldn’t actually hear from my location and have yet to watch as I don’t need their opinions to inform my own), on the ground, this isn’t what the main point seemed to be.

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What was it like at the women's march on Washington stage

From my perch on the wall outside the National Museum of the American Indian, it seemed like a nuanced confirmation of sisterhood.

It was so crowded that I left early, as I began to grow nervous due to the apparent lack of escape route if attacks like those in Nice or Berlin were to occur, but as I made my way out of the crowd, taking nearly 30 minutes to go a quarter block, none of the women around me were pushing. Everyone was chatty, smiling, helping each other, and making new friends.

I saw babies with their dads. Grandmothers and granddaughters. Black women. Native Americans lifting their voices in a rallying cry for indigenous rights (although it seems like these women were not wholly respected at the march. Please read Sydne Gray’s account of her experience here.)

What was it like at the women's march on Washington Justice

The overall peacefulness of the march (and the general lack of litter. While I did see overflowing trashcans, the trash was mainly stacked neatly to either side) could have contributed to the zero arrests made, the fact that the event was coded white from the beginning was likely the biggest factor. You can read more about this, and other valid criticisms of the march, from Oneika the Traveler’s perspective here.

And while the “official organizers” of the march excluded major causes and demographics that I really care about as a Christian woman, unofficially, woman-to-woman down in the crowd, we actually all had a lot in common.

The majority of the women in my area seemed to be over at least 40, and, from what I could gather, were not are much protesting Trump, as his position is currently unchangeable, but rather reminding the community how far women have come and that we refuse to give up the rights we’ve fought for.

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What was it like at the women's march on Washington Barbara Bush

These women were old enough to be working and raising families before Titles IX and X. Before martial rape laws were on the books. Before Lily Ledbetter. Before the Pregnancy Discrimination Act.

Before the Newsweek lawsuit. Before Sandra Day O’Connor became the first female Supreme Court justice – when women had no say in our nation’s highest court.

These were the women who fought so that I could be born with these rights. And they are not done yet, as many of our POC and LGBT sisters have been left behind.

(For a quick look at a timeline of women’s rights in America – click here.)

What was it like at the women's march on Washington

Ladies who paved the way.

While there were white women there old enough to have mothers and grandmothers who could not vote in America, there were black women there who could have been denied that right themselves before the Civil Rights Movement, while they experienced the other horrible byproducts at the intersection of sexism and racism.

Like, as my Lyft driver reminded me, having illegal interracial marriages only a generation before.

“If I was my grandfather, my father even,” he said,” it would have been illegal for my wife to be with me here in Virginia.”

I’m only 23 and my own father was already a senior in high school before interracial marriage was federally legal. I was 21 myself before everyone’s marriages were federally legal.

And although American women may have been predominantly featured “officially” at the DC march, as the election was the catalyst for the movement, the safety and advancement of women globally were ideas that were present and discussed within earshot of me continuously, as well as, I assume, around the world.

Our future is in great hands with these guys.

The ideologies, participation, and execution of both the official and unofficial aspects of the Women’s March on Washington were flawed.

But progress always is.

To find out more about legal issues facing women today, please click here.

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what was the DC march like


*As always, the opinions expressed here are completely my own and do not necessarily reflect those of my family or traveling companions. 

Bill Clinton was my first president.

He was inaugurated on January 20, 1993 and I was born that August. So the 2000 Bush v. Gore election is the first one that I can actually remember.

I was in 2nd grade and spent most of the fall semester arguing with classmates about whom our parents said was going to win.

My friend Max’s mom was a reporter. He said Bush told her there should be school on Saturdays.

I was very concerned about this.

More so concerned, however, that Clinton would no longer be president.

My 7-year-old brain couldn’t understand the idea of a peaceful transfer of power. Bill Clinton was the president. I had memorized this. He always had been. He always would be.

But then suddenly he wasn’t.

On January 20, 2017, I attended the inauguration of Donald Trump and felt that same confusion.

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What was it like at Trump's inauguration gloomy capitol

I didn’t vote for Trump.

And I didn’t vote for Clinton, either.

I felt comfortable in this choice because I live in Texas, a deep red state sporting this sunburn since 1980. It doesn’t matter who I vote for, or if thousands of my fellow Texans vote anything other than red, because it seems like the state’s 38 electoral votes will always go to the Republican candidate.

Instead, while I did vote for a president, I focused my attention locally and voted down ballot for judges, sheriffs, representatives, and commissioners who I could be sure supported the people and causes dear to me.

But I still knew I needed to attend the inauguration.

I made plans to go well before the elect was chosen, as my friend Smoky works for a Texas Senator and invited me to the ceremonies in May 2016.

What was it like at Trump's inauguration Empty Supreme Court

At the Supreme Court the day before the ceremony.

I bought my plane ticket, rented a dress for the Texas State Society inaugural ball, and went to bed on November 8, 2016 thinking I was probably attending the swearing in ceremony of America’s first female president.

But I woke up to Trump’s America.

Was this election controversial? Sure. Argumentative? Absolutely. But so, so American.

Think of it this way: Adama Barrow is currently hiding out in Senegal as he awaits Gambia’s first transition of power in nearly 22 years. Could you imagine if Trump, entering office with the lowest approval rating in the modern era, had to be sworn in on an aircraft carrier off the coast of Virginia, or in Guadalajara, only to be smuggled into the country later?

I watched the President of the United States willingly give up his position. Seeing the most powerful office in the world swing from hard left to right without even questioning that the incumbent would dig in his heels and stay anyway is a uniquely American privilege.   And we’ve seen this pendulum crash by three times in the past sixteen years.

What was it like at Trump's inauguration patriotic nails

Capitol Nails

But what was it like at Trump’s Inauguration?

January 20, 2017 was a dreary day. It started early as I was suddenly jolted out of a too-short rest after going a little too hard at the Black Tie & Boots Inaugural Ball with 10,000 other Texans the night before.

It wasn’t even a mile from Smoky’s home to the inauguration’s entrance for yellow tickets, but as we trudged along and joined the lines of other attendees, I couldn’t help but notice how quiet it was. How tense.

What was it like at Trump's inauguration- black tie and boots

Us girls enjoying the chance to dress up and dance

I didn’t dress warmly enough and as the rain began to mist over the security checkpoint, I briefly considered turning around and crawling back into bed.

But I couldn’t do that. It was my job to be there.

I say that because the majority of white Americans voted for Donald Trump and I am a white American. These voters can (very generally) be divided into white working-class folks from the “Rust Belt” who I affectionately refer to as rednecks, and middle-class evangelicals who were unwilling to cross party lines, no matter the moral character of the nominee. That said, morality seemed to be quite dubious on both sides of the aisle this go around.

Because the majority of Trump’s supporters fall into my demographic, it’s my responsibility to hear them out and work with them; a responsibility I would not expect others (namely my POC and LGBTQ friends) to be responsible for at this point in the process. They can work in their communities; I will work in mine.

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What was it like at Trump's inauguration close seats to the Capitol

The view from our seats.

As we settled into yellow section 11 (a seated section, fairly close to the Capitol thanks to Smoky’s hard work leading up to the ceremony) I noticed the people around me fell quite neatly into the two categories above. I started to count the non-white attendees and had reached seven in about half an hour before I was distracted by playing presidential trivia with my friends.

We arrived at 8:30 for the ceremony and while it did take a while for our section to fill up, by the time the Missouri choir sang, I turned to look and, from my vantage point, the Mall seemed packed back to the Washington Monument. I have to chuckle about it now, after seeing the aerial photographs showing the “sparsely populated” event, as the couple behind me, also from Texas, commented that they were sure CNN would say there was no one there.

What was it like at Trump's inauguration was trumps inauguration empty

This was at about 8:30 when we got there. It did eventually fill up.

I enjoyed the “parade of presidents” and will always cherish the opportunity to see Dubyah struggle with his rain poncho in person, but more so the unique occasion to see the loser of the presidential election seated nearly directly behind the new elect as he was sworn in. What was going through her mind?

What was it like at Trump's inauguration red coat DC

Struggling with my own poncho or “making fashion great again”

When the Clintons emerged from the maroon-draped hallway, the woman in front of me, who spent a good portion of the time before the ceremony disparaging the “event” in Ferguson, turned her back while some of the crowd erupted in boos. But then, quietly at first and then building, I heard angry chants of “lock her up” ripple out from the sections behind me.

“Oh, have some class!” shouted fellow Texan man in frustration.


Something I’ve heard a lot about over the last year and a half. Respect for both the Presidential Office and the person who holds it.

I’m working on the latter.

What was it like at Trump's inauguration Red Coat in DC

It would have been nice to be there when someone I adored, or at least trusted, became my president. To be able to cheer, feel elated, or even just know that I, and the people and causes I care about, are truly in capable hands. The president might not protect the vulnerable, but I, from my position of immense privilege, can offer support and a platform.

Speaking of the vulnerable, as the ceremony progressed and Melania appeared, the crowd lost it.

“There she is! That’s our first lady!”

“This is the luckiest day of that staff sergeant’s life. Woof,” said the Texan man behind me.

What was it like at Trump's inauguration free melania

A sign from the Women’s March on Washington the next morning.

She looked beautiful, as I’m sure anyone who watched the ceremonies could see, but she also seemed nervous. I wondered how she was feeling, as someone who seems shy, amid a crowd of men “woofing” at her.

The crowd was quite vocal. Not as much in my seated section, but the rowdier, standing sections behind me had extremely visceral reactions, including loudly booing as Senator Chuck Schumer read a letter from a Civil War solider in an attempt to encourage Americans to strive for unity.

I wasn’t sure if they were booing at what he was saying, or just at him in general, but either way, it was frustrating. This was a presidential inauguration. Not the Super Bowl.

And then it was time for Donald.

What was it like at Trump's inauguration tomb of the unknown solider american flag

A rouge hat at the Tomb of the Unknown Solider. I had to leave because the Secret Service was there clearing the area for Trump’s appearance later in the day.

When I was in college, I spent a semester in Rome, Italy and during that semester, spent a freezing, rainy Wednesday morning waiting for Pope Francis outside Saint Peter’s. I was soaked and my teeth were chattering from hours of exposure, but as soon as the Pope Mobile rounded the corner, the rain suddenly ceased. My friends and I laughed that it was an act of God.

At Trump’s inauguration, it was the opposite. As soon as the last of his Presidential Oath left his lips, it began to rain. It had been threatening to all morning and had drizzled on and off, but as the 21 cannon salute began (which was terrifying? I didn’t know it was going to happen and suddenly was surrounded by explosions at a very tense political event), so did the rain in earnest.

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What was it like at Trump's inauguration how to get good inauguration tickets

My ticket.

As I sat quietly listening to Trump’s inaugural address, adjusting my own poncho, I noted his apparent change in demeanor. Sure, his hands were flailing per usual, but he seemed to be trying really hard to seem “presidential.” I don’t really know what I expected, but it wasn’t that.

Then, way before I thought it would, the ceremony concluded.

As I trudged across the muddy Capitol lawn, trying to process the event that had just unfolded before me and avoid being caught in a stampede, I heard the roar of a helicopter and looked up to see the Obamas fly right over me, officially leaving his presidency behind.

Na na na na.

Those around me began to sing.

Na na na na.

Hey hey hey.


The dress I’m wearing is from Dress Barn. 

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