They almost look cute. When asked how they managed to swing tickets to an inaugural ball, Matt Pyeatte doesn't hesitate to answer. Pyeatte and his two buddies are having the time of their lives in Washington, they say. It's normal at country club or yacht club functions. Outside of Union Station, the sky is dark and the sleet has changed to bona fide snow.
Women step out of limousines and taxicabs, daintily jumping over puddles and patches of ice.
Once safe inside, they join an inaugural gala already in full swing. Red, white and blue swags drape down from the majestic columns of the station's Great Hall. A screen large enough to rival any multiplex theater broadcasts images of the band. Colored spotlights roam the room. Besides checking out all the fancy dresses and elaborate hairstyles, one wonders how such a pricey event could have the gall to have a cash bar.