I just didn’t know what I could do to prevent the coming catastrophe.
I did have a nice chance to sit down with my son about a week before the Inauguration, and I asked him about his plans. His ship had come in and he was taking two weeks leave with us. Charlie had done some growing up, at least to the extent he didn’t give me an automatic smartass answer. Instead he simply smiled and shook his head. “I don’t know yet, Dad.” I just nodded. I did notice that the Corps had knocked some of the smart ass out of him. He was more mature than when he went in. Maturity didn’t extend all that far, though. On his right arm he was now sporting a large globe-and-anchor Marine Corps tattoo. When I told him I hoped it hurt, he just grinned and said, “It’s not too bad when you’ve been drinking!”
The Inauguration was being held, by law, on January 20th, a Saturday. I had been to the 1996 Inauguration, but I had a bout of the flu the day of the ’92 festivities. The day is supposed to be a joyous celebration of the wonders of democracy, but from what I could tell, what it really was was a major pain in the ass! From the crack of dawn onward there are breakfasts and prayer ceremonies and associated horseshit. Then, in the late morning, would be the Inauguration itself. We would have various speakers and music, Billy Graham would give the invocation, and then I would get sworn in first, maybe about 11:30 in the morning. After that there would be some more fooling around, and then at noon George would be sworn in. He would give a speech, we’d have some more fun and games, and then there would be a parade.
The biggest problem would be that it was outside in January! We had an excellent chance of freezing our asses off. Presidents have died doing this shit! Why they couldn’t do this in the Rotunda of the Capitol was beyond me.
All day long, until the Inaugural Balls in the evening, you had all sorts of pomp and ceremony around the city to attend. Then you had to go to the Balls — plural. There were eight of them, all black-tie, spread around Washington, and you had to make an appearance at each and every one of them. It wasn’t so much a celebration of the Inauguration as a celebration of exhaustion! The balls started at 7:00 PM, and ran until well after midnight. It was expected that we would show up at one of them, say something nice, have a dance, and try to eat something and have a drink. We had to be done and to the next one inside a half hour.
We had a fair number of complimentary tickets given to us. Upwards of 50,000 guests would be at the various balls, the cost of which was fronted by various millionaires and lobbying groups. The Maryland Ball was being held in the D.C. Armory, a cavernous building with seating for 9,000. Cheryl and her husband would be there, along with my (her) entire Congressional staff. Ohio, John Boehner’s home state, was having its ball in the Washington Convention Center, and he would have the Whip’s staff there.
We also invited Suzie and her husband, and Marilyn’s parents. They would stay at the Armory, and not travel around with us. The twins opted to stay with our families and not travel everywhere with us. The idea of Big Bob and Harriet at a black tie affair was so ludicrous that I spent weeks teasing Marilyn about it. Marilyn would be wearing a designer gown by Oscar de la Renta. She wasn’t really a designer gown sort of lady, but off the rack at some boutique wouldn’t cut it. I had no idea what Harriet would be wearing, but I suspected it would be large and ugly. Suzie and the twins opted for some very expensive boutiques — I packed them and Marilyn off to 5th Avenue in New York for an appointment with a professional that Marty dug up. I didn’t want to know what it would cost me. Other guests included Tusker and Tessa, Jake Senior and Jake Junior and their wives, Missy Talmadge, Dave Marquardt and his wife, and a few other people, like the Gates and the Dells. Any of my other tickets I gave out to campaign donors and supporters on the orders of Karl Rove. I made sure to invite the Republican Committee honchos from Maryland — always remember to dance with the one that brought you!
On the plus side, Charlie was going to attend. His mother and I assigned him as the escort to his sisters, and I was able to rush order some dress blues for him. I had to admit, the Marines really knew how to do a uniform! Of all the services, theirs was the best, with blue, red, and gold. Then I reminded Charlie that when he met the new President he was a serving Marine, and he would be well advised to stand tall and salute! All that stuff he was taught in basic about military protocol and courtesy? Now would be a real good time to review it!
The inauguration was as miserable as I could imagine it to be. It was freezing cold and rainy. Yes, the stage we were on was covered and had hidden heaters, but it was just miserable. I pitied the poor bastards who had to march in this mess. Afterwards it was just a matter of hurry up and wait. Marilyn and I did get to see our families, even if just briefly, and we worked it so that we finished our tour of the balls at the D.C. Armory, and rushed through on the way to get there. I was exhausted, and Marilyn actually fell asleep leaning against me. A picture of her snoring on my shoulder, mouth wide open, made it into the newspapers the next day.
I was sorry that we were both so tired by the end of the day. Marilyn’s evening gown sort of wafted over her curves and had a very pleasing cut to the neckline that really highlighted her bust. It was a shade of red, her favorite color, that did well with her coloring and brown hair (with highlights covering the gray — I had teased her on that earlier.) Marilyn still had a nice hourglass figure, although she was complaining it was getting a lot harder to keep. With me being away so much during the campaign, it became very easy for her to ‘forget’ to exercise in the morning. Still, when she came out of the bedroom in her gown I made the appropriate wolf whistle. It was too bad that she’d never wear it again. It would probably end up being donated to the Smithsonian.
Marilyn smiled and asked, “So you like it?”
“You bet!” I ran a hand across her back and down to her rump. I could tell she had a bra on, but I suspected pantyhose were covering her panties.
“What are you up to?” she asked suspiciously.
“Well, you know, as the Vice President, I need to be able to perform the duties of the President in an instant. As the wife of the Vice President, you should be able to perform your wifely duties in an instant!” I waggled my eyebrows at her and patted her rump. “Nothing should get in the way, if you know what I mean.”
Marilyn snorted and rolled her eyes. “Oh, give me a break!” Then she looked at me and gave me a sly grin. “Does the Vice President’s wife have to step in when the First Lady can’t perform her duties? Maybe I should talk to Laura about that.”
“Hmmm… I never thought about that. Maybe I should check with Bill Clinton. Maybe there’s an intern program available.”
“Yuck!”
“I think the Vice President gets interns, too.”
That earned me a finger wagging and several “You can behave!” comments.
The day after the Inauguration Bush ordered Cheney to take care of the warrant on me. This was handled in Dick’s signature subtle style — he had the Treasury Department put a hold on all Nicaraguan funds in American banks. They squawked loudly and he had a spokesman publicly tell them at a press conference that they were acting too big for their britches and that if they wanted their money back to cancel the warrant. Nowhere did he require that I be exonerated. It was pure power, might makes right, behave or get spanked. They behaved, but sure didn’t like it. I decided I wouldn’t be making any formal state visits to either Honduras or Nicaragua, no matter what Cheney or Bush wanted.