Inauguration Day in the Palin household was gloomy. Husband Todd insisted that the entire family go fishing, but Sarah was adamant that they all gather around the big screen and watch “the half-breed” get sworn in as the 44th American president.
Sarah also insisted that everyone, even baby Trig, wear “Palin 2012” T-shirts and baseball caps. In the giddy days after the GOP Convention in Minneapolis, when Sarah was the shining new darling of the Republican Party and her political future seemed limitless, she had 10,000 T-shirts and 5,000 “Palin 2012” caps printed. Now, after the disastrous interviews on ABC and CBS, the debate with Joe Biden, Tina Fey’s impersonations on Saturday Night Live, the flap over her Neiman Marcus shopping spree, the rumors of sour relations with the McCain camp, and the election outcome, the cartons of T-shirts and caps were stacked in the garage, floor to ceiling; Todd couldn’t see, let along reach, his favorite snowmobile or his bear traps.
As the family gathered and jockeyed for prime spots on the sofa, Todd tried one more gambit to avoid the explosion he knew was coming. “Why don’t we go hunt some moose,” he said. “It’s fourteen degrees outside and I’m in the mood to shoot something!”
He was silenced with a single glance from his wife and meekly took a seat.
“Put it on CNN,” Sarah ordered Bristol. “I will not watch ABC or CBS or NBC. Those people are jackals, plain and simple, and because of them and all those lying liberal bloggers, I lost the election! This should be my big day, like the senior prom – only better! If those people had treated me fairly, I would have won and we would be moving into the White House.”
John McCain appeared briefly on the screen as the camera panned the assembled dignitaries.
“There he is,” Sarah shrieked, “that horrible, disgusting man! Look at him – he’s the devil! Stiff as a two by four, full of himself, always talking about the day he got shot down over North Vietnam. He was sooooo booorrring! I’d rather shop for a new septic tank than spend an afternoon with John McCain. And don’t get me started on his wife, that stuck up bitch.”
“Honey,” Todd said. “The kids.”
“God,” Piper said, “look at all those black people.”
“It’s like Africa,” said Willow, “only it’s America.”
“It’s the un-American part of America,” Sarah said. “Those are the people who pal around with terrorists, who love Fidel Castro, who think Hugo Chavez is cool.”
They watched as Joe Biden was sworn in as Vice-President.
Trig loosed a loud fart and smiled.
“Joe was nice enough,” Sarah said, “ for a socialist.”
“There are more people on the Mall than in all of Alaska,” Todd said, somewhat awestruck.
Sarah snorted derisively. “Yeah, but can they see Russia from their front porch? Are they America’s first line of defense against Vladimir Putin? Do they understand that our way of life is at stake, that the socialists have seized control of America and will turn our market economy into a command economy, like the old days of the Soviet Union?”
Obama placed his non-white hand on the Bible. The historic moment was here, at long last. The world watched. Todd watched his wife. Sarah hadn’t been the same since the election. The phone wasn’t ringing as she had hoped it would; none of the Republican Party elders were courting her or seeking her opinion on what to do to save the Republican Party from its own excesses; even Rush Limbaugh seemed to have forgotten her. The fact that she had taken a long, heady draught of the big time, but now found herself consigned to a small stage far from the action, wasn’t sitting well.
The canons fired a twenty-one gun salute, the crowd on the Mall became delirious, a sea of American flags waved in the cold air, and it was done, official: Barack Obama was President of the United States.
As millions in America and around the world cried tears of joy, tears of pride, tears of relief, Sarah Palin cried tears of anguish and mopped those tears on the sleeve of her “Palin 2012” T-shirt.
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