By TaRessa Stovall

Sunday, Jan. 18

As comedian Jon Stewart observed, a black man is moving into the White House so Washington, DC declares a State of Emergency. The excitement, the tension, the sheer joy of the citizenry and the scowling, stressed-out demeanor of law enforcement and security personnel are all blended into that unique stew known as A Major Capital Event.

Tourists are everywhere, rocking Obama gear — hats, buttons, whatever — and smiling at each other, at strangers, to themselves and no one in particular as they pack Metro like the #1 uptown NYC subway at rush hour, or saunter down downtown D.C. streets, looking around as if to say, Wow. This is IT. And I’m here!

DC is one of my homes. Lived here for 7 years, birthed my two children here, was a political appointee in the Daddy Bush administration (and I’m not even a Republican!), then swung over to work at the Children’s Defense Fund, where Hillary Clinton had just resigned as Chair of the Board of Directors to help her husband’s run for the White House. I’ve lived through both Clinton inaugurations and don’t even remember whether we took off work those days.

But this Inauguration is, as was the campaign and the election, a whole ‘nother thing. I get new security and travel updates from the Inaugural folk sent to my phone every few minutes, it seems. This Metro station is closed; this one is open, please don’t block the doors.

My friend is here from Atlanta with her 16-year-old daughter. I’ve brought my son, 17 and my daughter, 15. We take the kids to the NAACP Inaugural WelcomeCenter at the Lansburgh Theatre in Chinatown. Their festivities include a Spoken Word Performance presenting “The Voices of a New Generation.” It is new NAACP CEO Benjamin Jealous’ 36th birthday. The house is full; a relaxed, appreciative, multi-generational crowd. The beat is hip hop. The vibe is celebratory. The crowd is pumped.

The poets are brilliant: passionate, edgy, on point. Some dazzle with eloquent dexterity; others snatch your breath All are moving, timely, outstanding young talents. Host Bryonn Bain, from BET-J’s award-winning talk show, “My Two Cents,” gives the program its high-energy flow, with NAACP-related trivia questions put to the audience between poetry acts, a nice blend of teaching and entertaining. Of course we got TheDefendersOnline into the trivia mix!

But this night is all about a new generation of literary talent. The poets are rock stars. The audience applauds wildly, murmurs appreciatively, jumps to their feet, human exclamation points. I sneak glances at the kids; they seem into it.

The program concludes with one of the original Last Poets spitting potent wisdom, and hip hop pioneer Kurtis Blow gamely reprising “These are the Breaks.” He calls for a B-Boy from the audience but when none respond, he twists his baseball cap to the side and thrusts his middle-aged (but apparently very fit) body into impressive break dance moves. The audience goes wild. Their voices were diverse; their words universal, but the common thread was the elation of celebration mixed with solemn reminders that There Is Much Work To Do.

It was the perfect event to help ease into the Inaugural vibe. HBO was recording, so look for a broadcast near you. They also had a booth where people could pop in and share their thoughts, feelings, observations about the Inauguration. We couldn’t stop by the booth, though, because our parking garage was closing at 10 p.m. Sharp. Welcome to DC, y’all, and our Inaugural State of Emergency.

Saturday, January 17

On the Amtrak from Newark Penn Station. A normal, mellow ride until we get near Philly. Then the train stops for long, unexplained periods. When it starts up again, it’s slower than a pedestrian’s Sunday stroll. A voice over the loudspeaker says something about delays due to “intruders on the tracks.” Folk look nervously at their fellow passengers: is this code for “terrorists?”

Later, they explain. We have the good fortune of behind the Obama/Biden express. We continue the crawl to Baltimore, where Obama/Biden stop for crab cakes and a speech. We are, thankfully, riding at normal train speed again. Hit Union Station with one goal: get out of here before the President and Vice-President-Elect arrive. Rush past lines of police officers with their dogs; the media crowding the front; an hour-long taxi line.

Hit the Metro, ride it to the end of the line, then taxi to my friends’ house in Silver Spring, Md. Laugh about “No Drama Obama” creating drama for our train. But once we knew what the delays were, all of the passengers, clearly Inauguration-bound, relaxed and smiled and were very nice to each other. Once we knew who the “intruders on the tracks’ really were.