On the cold, January morning in Washington D.C., I thought seeing the 45th president inaugurated was going to be the most eventful thing happening to me that day, but I was wrong. The phone rings at 3 AM, and I dart out of the bed because I knew today was the day that I would see Donald Trump inaugurated as president. I put on three layers of clothes, feeling like I can barely walk and run out of the door with excitement. Mrs. Delbert hands us the inaugural tickets for my section, and it was extravagant. The ticket had fancy cursive letters, white trim, and in bold Inauguration of the President of the United States; I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. We start our journey to the Lincoln Memorial, where the exciting event would take place. As the cold and windy 30 degree air hits my face, I knew it was going to be a long day. I take my brown paper bag of breakfast and we are on our way!

The walk seemed endless but no one complained because we knew where our end goal was, and we were all too excited to even care. As my teeth chatter, I can only image seeing all of the political figures in one spot, waiting for our next president to be inaugurated. We stop to rest and eat our breakfast for a bit to kill time. As I’m sitting eating breakfast on the ice cold concrete, I remember not to forget my ticket in the bag, but I’m soon distracted by the busy streets of people. It’s time to resume our journey to the memorial, we finish our food, and throw away our bags. Ms. Tatum’s group and I start the journey to our section of the barricades a few miles down. We walk for eternity it seems, but it was only a few blocks, and I get a sudden wave of panic, slowly realizing I accidentally threw away my ticket!

My chest feels like it’s about to cave, my breathing is getting faster, and my tears are running down my face. Ms. Tatum tries to calm me down saying it will be okay, but I’m past the point of calming down. We are at least 5 blocks down from our resting spot and I don’t know what to do. Do I run back and dig my ticket out of the trash or do I just watch the inauguration from the general admission section and forget about the ticket? I knew what I had to do, but it wasn’t going to be easy. My friend, Taylor, and I run full speed back to the trashcan where I threw away my bag. I feel the wind burning my cheeks almost raw and my tears almost freezing on my face, but I was on a mission. We push through the crowd of people to get to the trash can as fast as we can. Finally, we reach the bin and my heart is beating out of my chest. I pull the lid off of the trash can and I can feel the judgemental eyes of people glaring at me, but I don’t care. I throw the trash out of the bin and there it is, my brown paper bag! I sudden wave of relief rushes over me as I pull the ticket out of the nasty trash can, and it was like there were angels singing Hallelujah from above. The jaws drop around us, wondering how this little girl pulled a ticket to the inauguration out of a random trash can. After this slight heart attack, I dry my tears and we rush back to our group. We are all so relieved, jumping for joy that I found my ticket. We head to our section of the barricades, and the rest of the day is history.

My trip to D.C. was one I’ll never forget, even the ups and down. Losing a ticket to a very important event isn’t something to be proud of, but I learned to find humor during tough times. At the time, it was not funny at all, and I was so upset. Looking back on the event, it’s funny story to tell because I can now find humor in it. This trip was meant to teach me about history and politics, but little did I know that I would learn a lot about life as well.