By STEVE SALDIVAR
The inauguration Tuesday night at Doc’s Clock made New Year’s Eve in Times Square look like a baby shower in the Sunset District. Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but it was a happening place.
The popular Mission District bar on 2575 Mission St. opened its doors at 8 p.m. to regulars and partygoers alike.
“We need it,” said Rio Vizmanos, a member of the Extra Action Marching Band, an alternative band that has crashed parties for more than a decade. “We really needed it,” Vizmanos continued, as if discussing the state of the nation as a sporting event that had come down to the last shot, the last pitch, the last down.
“The only way is up. It’s all in that one word: hope. It gave people so much,” he said. “It’s part of believing. That’s how the future is made because you have hope for the future. If you don’t, it won’t work out.”
Doc’s Clock continued to play reruns of the inauguration, including images of Barack Obama being sworn in, on a large overhead projector in the back of the bar. Vizmanos, who usually waves flags as part of the marching band, waved pompoms on Tuesday night. The latter appeared to be a sign that America had indeed won in the last inning.
As the night ended, someone brought out a piñata resembling George W. Bush that had been hiding between the vodka and scotch behind the bar. Onlookers pelted Bush until his insides—condoms—came gushing down.
Vizmanos, 44, watched the inauguration in his Castro Valley neighborhood, but said the Mission District, his favorite hangout, will change with the new president.
“People didn’t want to talk about the fact that he is black,” said Vizmanos. “But you gotta come clean. This means a lot to a lot of people here.
“He’s one of us, finally. It’s our turn.”
While many in the bar hung around outside, their high-pitched voices rising in conversation, Vizmanos slipped a Marlboro cigarette into the corner of his mouth and lit it.
Despite the unity he feels with many minority residents in the Mission District, he said he was caught off guard by their surprise at having a black president.
“To me, it should have happened a long time ago. Finally. It’s not that the time has come, it’s that the time was overdue,” he said.
He brushed his blond wig to the side and tilted his head back to make sure the smoke rings missed it.
By this time he’d forgotten all about the glass of beer one of his band mates had ordered for him.
He stared at the neon lights that made the Doc’s Clock marquee look like the Las Vegas strip, flicked the cigarette to the gum-ridden pavement and rustled the pompoms back into action.
Team Obama had won.