I ran into President Barack Obama twice last night.
Once at the Main Street Inaugural Ball in Hopkins, and again at an invitation-only party at the Frank Stone Gallery in northeast Minneapolis. Both parties featured picture-taking with a life-size cutout of our newly minted commander in chief. (I had you going there for a minute, huh?)
While the very-formally attired president and Mrs. O. made the rounds in Washington, Minnesotans ate crudités and sipped fluted champagne while the day’s big moments replayed on big screens.
In Hopkins, we were promised a “goose-pimply” version of the National Anthem, and it pretty much delivered. That, combined with my conversations with a 74-year-old clergyman who marched with Martin in Alabama and a young African-American who was man enough to admit he (like me) cried on Tuesday, pretty much made my night.
After crashing five parties over the course of three days, my inaugural escapade was over.
It all came to a perfect end with a champagne toast in the presence of tuxedoed and gowned self-proclaimed Obama Mavericks.
(Be on the lookout for the guy in the silver bow-tie.)
Here’s the video.