Saying Goodbye to George Bush

The anticipation and excitement in Washington grows exponentially with each successive day, Saturday, Sunday, and now Monday. The streets of the city become ever more tightly wound as the afternoon sun settles into the cold western sky.

We join a tight crowd of people wrapping around the fence facing the south lawn of the White House. Tourists, to be sure, wanting to catch a glimpse of this fabled mansion, this center of power.

The crowds are tight, and slowly it turns into a little more than just a mob of tourists gawking at the White House. Shouts rise up from the crowd.

Liar! War-Monger!! You’re a liar and a War-Monger

A man and woman surge against the general flow of the inching crowd holding signs saying “I hated George Bush Before it was Cool!” I resist the temptation to tell the man that he still isn’t cool – rejecting George Bush’s disastrous presidency isn’t about being “cool”

I make my way toward the middle of the fence and spy what it is the crowd is now murmuring about – on the south lawn a few years inside the fence – a pair of shoes.

Much bonding and snapping of pictures, until a man with a very big and deadly looking gun and the unfortunate task of guarding the White House on the afternoon of George Bush’s last day in office strolls purposefully toward the object. Eying it suspiciously he ascertains that it is a pair of shoes – ceremonial, symbolic shoes – but still, just a pair of shoes. The agent walks back toward the White House.

Moments later, from behind us, another agent tells us that we must all move away from the fence, to a more secure area further back. Presumably beyond shoe-throwing distance.

We’re just trying to say Goodbye to George Bush.

And keeping a watchful eye over the entire proceedings:

Honest Abe