It was evident on the Amtrak today that everyone on board was heading to the inauguration, seeing as not one person got off at any of the stops before Union Station. The atmosphere wasn't quite what I was expecting though. The rampant intensity wasn't there. I'd heard stories beforehand of passengers jumping up and starting car-shaking parties with the mere shouting of Barack Obama's name. I thought about trying it myself, as a sort of social experiment. But in the end my reason and sense of self-preservation won out and I remained seated, reading quietly and making small talk with the woman beside me. We both agreed that it was a rare opportunity to watch this kind of history unfold firsthand, and that the leg room in business class was just outstanding.

I also spoke with an older black man in line for the dining car. He told me that he had taken part in several civil rights marches and sit-ins in the sixties; he once took a shot to the head from a rock. When I asked him if he had found the transition in race-relations since those days noticeable, he responded slowly, "Oh...yes." Right on, my man. He wore a professional Nikon camera around his neck, so I told him that I'd be taking some photos of my own, albeit with a much more pedestrian digital camera. He said he was sure they'd be just fine--he had no idea how to use his anyway.

Coming towards Union Station, the stewardess made sure to inform us that, along with receiving complimentary soft drinks, we were lucky to have booked train tickets, as we would be passing by literally miles of tour buses with the same goal in mind. None of which would have provided free Coke. I was a happy traveler.

Overall, the trip from Cary to my cousin's matchbox-sized apartment in Adams-Morgan was underwhelming. With all the talk of D.C. being a "madhouse" and a "zoo" and "the next New York City," I was expecting, well, any of those. But the reality was just smooth sailing into a mildly bustling city with a police blockade here and there. I wasn't whisked away in a frenzy of dancing, Obama-crazed masses. I wasn't even robbed. However I was, and am, proud to be here for this historic event. Twenty years from now when people ask me where I was when Obama was sworn in, I'll be lucky enough to answer, "Right there." That is, if I make it out alive once there are actually six billion people within a two-mile radius. Fingers crossed.