I was talking to a friend yesterday who was in D.C. last week for Obamarama: the presidential inauguration. He was sniffling away not out of emotion for the first (openly) African-American president but on account of a cold he caught standing outside in the wintry air last Tuesday for hours on end waiting for, and later witnessing, the event of the [insert preferred period of time here according to own political persuasion].
We’ve all seen that the turnout for the event was major: the largest-ever presidential inauguration with somewhere in the region of 2 million people standing on the National Mall in Washington from the early hours of the morning. A two-million audience standing in the cold for hours after a poor night’s sleep: my guess is my friend won’t be the only one with a cold this weekend. Like him, large numbers of folks will have gone home with a running nose and, maybe, taken a couple of days off work. Some critics might pick up on the irony of Obama’s message claiming to want to get Americans back to work.
Instead his inauguration might have sparked an epidemic of sick days across the country that will effectively have turned months of Obama fever into a couple of days of what could henceforth be known as the Obama flu.
I’m sure all these happy snifflers won’t have regretted their decision to attend the event, though. I for one wish I could have been there.