Tips from attendee of 20 inaugural balls

January 7, 3:46 PMDC Art Travel ExaminerMarsha Dubrow

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Crush at LBJ inaugural ball. Library of Congress Collection 

So you're attending an Obama inaugural ball, and you think you're gonna have a ball? 

I've attended about 20. Most fit the description that John Quincy Adams penned in his memoirs, "The crowd was excessive, the heat oppressive, and the entertainment bad."

Best inaug entertainment I saw was Clinton on sax. No Bird, but not bad for a President. Aretha, anyone?

Here are a few of my strategies (stay tuned) to survive the blessed events:

Make pre-emptive strikes at the bathrooms.

Especially us women. I've observed several ladies losing their erstwhile ladylike behavior -- and more -- at the overcrowded, overwhelmed ladies' rooms.   

Now men, this's fair warning to you too. Unaccustomed as you are to lining up at men's rooms, you will on this night of nights.

Speaking of accidents, women, don't wear a gown with a train. If you cannot resist, do not get a strapless one -- unless you truly want to be topless. And you may be backless too. Rrriiiippp... Tttrrriippp...

Men, don't complain about wearing a tux. Be a man. Besides, all men look at least 50 percent better in a tux; probably 75 percent better. Unless you go for pastel poufy shirts and/or American flag-printed bow tie and matching cummerbund. One Senator wore Texas-shaped studs and cuff links at inaugural bashes of both Bushes. 

Wear new shoes only if you have a foot pain fetish. You too, men -- at the balls, aching feet are not for women only. There'll be nary a chair in sight all night. And it's standing room only, often on stone floors of museums and other historic buildings.

As the famed Wagnerian soprano Birgit Nilsson divulged when asked her secret for singing the multi-hour role of Isolde in "Tristan und Isolde" -- "comfortable shoes".  

Even though I was shod in shamefully comfy flats for one ball in Union Station, its marble floors hurt my feet so badly that I thought I had gout. My size 6.5 feet stayed swollen for days. I was like Cinderella's stepsisters, trying to cram my fat feet into my own shoes, forget a glass slipper.

No one will be able to see your heels -- unless you end up clutching them in your hands like a klutz, as so many do. Even Manolos are unchic if you carry them a mano.

And any new shoes, especially Choo shoes and that ilk, ain't made for walking or dancing. Well, don't fret about dancing because there's never room. As LBJ commented to Lady Bird (photo above), "Never before have so many paid so much to dance so little," according to the book "Presidential Inaugurations" by Paul F. Boller, Jr. (Harcourt, Inc.)

Boller told me in an interview that LBJ "was a good dancer. He could be crude and cruel but also courtly. Every President after that danced -- with differing degrees of skill -- at their own inaugural balls." The author also of "Presidential Diversions"  (Harcourt, Inc.) and "Presidential Wives" (Oxford University Press) added that Barbara Bush had pronounced George H.W. Bush "'a bit of a deadbeat on the dance floor,'" and G.H.W.B. conceded that he was "'a lousy dancer'".

Aside from dancing, plan on walking a lot. Even if you have a limo and driver you'll probably have to walk through gridlock traffic to get anywhere near the ball. And after the ball is over, just try finding your limo in the thousands that'll be clogging Washington streets. Taxi? Crazy? Going underground by Metro will be the best bet, overwhelmed though it'll probably be. “Roads, Trains Can’t Handle Jan. 20 Droves” was only one of numerous media warnings.

Metro isn't any glittering carriage, but it won't go pumpkin at midnight. It'll run until 2 a.m. Also, the subway is no less elegant than tromping through the streets or The Mall to and from balls. 

Even without the Obama-level crowds at the balls I attended, I walked a couple of miles to get from one ball to the other. I remember slogging along The Mall in frigid wind to get to four balls at museums, then to the Metro for take two trains to the next two balls at hotels.

Yeah, yeah, how I suffered for the pleasure of covering almost all inaugurals since Reagan's first, soon after I moved to Washington. Over the years, I've been fortunate to have covered them for Reuters, “Life”, “People”, "Punch", and other media -- and to have attended Clinton's second inaugural activities that I'd helped plan.

Back to survival tips: Stuff your mouth before you go, if you wish to eat at all on that night of nights. And ladies, stuff your bodice instead of a purse, with your necessities.

Expect slim pickins', if any, and very long lines to belly up to the buffets. Looong gone are feasts like James Buchanan's 1857 ball, which served up about 400 gallons of oysters, 60 saddles of mutton, eight rounds of beef, 75 hams, and 125 tongues, 500 quarts of chicken salad, 1,200 quarts of ice cream, and much more, according to "Presidential Inaugurals". Food, and a bit of greed, caused near riots at several do's including Lincoln's in 1865 and Andrew Jackson's in 1829. "Old Hickory" fled his public inaugural reception when crowds overran the White House, had fisticuffs over the food, broke some china, tore down curtains, and, and... 

At one of pappa Bush's inaugural parties, DC's largest hotel ballroom was turned into a Texas "chuck wagon", with actual covered wagons serving up chicken fried steak, Frito pie, and his favorite, pork rinds. Gout indeed. One exquisite woman's chili dog dripped onto her diamond ring as big as the Lone Star. Yahoo buckaroo. Texpatriate though I am, I wave a big bye-bye, Bushies.

Whatever you do, DO NOT DO what I did regarding security. I almost got myself arrested.

Even without the massive security planned for Obamaballs, attendees sometimes waited for almost an hour to pass through airport-like metal detectors. My press credentials only once failed to get me to the front of the line. Yeah, yeah, yet another reason to hate the media. But as a media person, I had to file my story immediately. Try it.

Anyway, on my fifth ball that night, one security person declined to let me pass through the metal gates -- although I wore press credentials for that ball and four others, dangling like diamonds around my neck. For over half an hour, with my midnight deadline fast approaching, I explained, negotiated, etc. She put one hand on her sizable hip holster and the other on handcuffs, and threatened to arrest me. "Please do," I said and presented my wrists. "That'll make a far better story."

She yanked me through the metal detectors. As I scurried to the ballroom, a man behind me made some wisecrack. I whirled around to let him have it, and saw one of the most gorgeous men I've ever had the pleasure of seeing. My grimace turned to a grin. He waited among the masses while I phoned in my story, and became one of the most important people ever in my life.  

This year, no near-arrests, no Prince Charming, no red cashmere gown, or midnight blue silk jersey gown, etc. I'll be sporting my Obama t-shirt emblazoned with the "Washington Post" front page banner headline story November 5, "Obama Makes History", and drinking fine champagne in bed while watching the festivities on TV.

I don't think that's what James Madison meant when he confided to a friend at his 1809 inauguration, "I would much rather be in bed."

Okay, so these balls ARE problematic -- but they are so exciting, and never moreso than this year in "Bamelot".

Special Report: Inauguration Day 2009

• Official Inaugural Events
• Neighborhood Inaugural Ball project
• Examiner.com Inauguration Roundup
• Examiner Coverage: Inauguration Day 2009
• The Obama Administration at a glance