Burning Bush

I don't do cold or crowds anymore, so I ignored most of the countless inauguration events despite living next door. But when humorist Kate Clinton announced a sage-burning ceremony at Dupont Circle last night, I felt inspired to venture out.

Traffic was surprisingly light, and even parking was OK. The feeling on the street was almost electric. I've lived in and around Washington most of my life, but I'd never sensed anything like this before - not even when Bill Clinton was first elected. People were smiling, which is just not a common sight here. The only discordant note was the heavy police presence. They were everywhere: on the street, in the sky, down below in the tunnel.

I'm not sure burning sage can clear away eight years of bad juju, but we were certainly enthusiastic. Kate was joined by a lesbian rabbi, a shaman, and a magnificent singer, all deeply engaging to our ebullient crowd.

A different type of catharsis was playing out on the other side of the circle, where people gleefully hurled shoes at a giant inflatable Dubya. And sage wasn't the only substance aglow: on the way there, we passed an idling black Town Car that reeked of pot. Poppy and Bar, no doubt.

Despite wool socks, schlong johns, fleece, etc., I froze my withered hiney off and enjoyed today's festivities from the warmth and comfort of our living room. But I'm glad I was lured out for a couple of chilly hours to get a little taste of something that feels like a revolution.