SUPPLIED TO ANDERSON:

WASHINGTON — I got a bird’s-eye view.

Quite literally.

And I had to brave a few moments of real panic as the crowd I got caught up in teetered on the ledge of a riotous stampede — more than once.

I was warned to get to President Barack Obama’s inauguration early. The crowds would swell to enormous sizes. Not surprising. It’s been like that since I arrived this weekend.

I got there about 7:45 a.m. and saw the masses going in every direction around Third, Second and First streets.

My first clue something was amiss came when I’d ask one of D.C.’s finest for directions. I had tickets to the so-called Purple Area, meaning I would have a good, close view of the inauguration. Not the best seats, but pretty darned good.

None of those cops appeared to have much of an idea. I showed them the map I had that came with my invitation, which looked like the sort of program you’d receive at a prestigious university’s graduation. One nice cop told me to get to First Street.

I turned the corner at First and slammed into a wall of people. And would remain there at First and D streets for another few hours. I never quite figured out what happened. There were all sorts of conflicting reports from fellow inaugural-goers — like one huge game of outdoors speakerphone. Not all the Blackberries in the world could answer why we weren’t moving.

So we made friends, hopped on our feet to stay warm and chit-chatted to pass the time. Two of our crowd buddies ended up bailing fairly early when they were told by others going in the other direction that the “Silver Seat” people had to get in through Third Street. The Silver Seats were a bit farther back from the Purple Area. I still had Emily from San Luis Obispo to talk to and ponder why we weren’t moving.

Close to 11 a.m., someone managed to get a view over the steady river of people flowing across D Street and noticed the crowd was moving along First Street toward the sign “Purple Area.” One very brave and assertive woman said, “OK, we can do this. One at a time, single file. Follow me and we’ll push through.” So we shoved our way through the rushing stream of people and then — jailbreak! It was like the running of the bulls. Emily and I laughed, “The buddy system works!”

Then we hit more bottlenecks. Which way do we get in? Again, the police officers had no clue. Obviously frustrated and desperately wanting to help us, they radioed their supervisors in vain to get directions. None were forthcoming. But we figured out where the tiny entrance was, and one of the taller fellows in the crowd informed us it was moving, but slowly. We were headed in the right direction.

But would we make it in time? The minutes kept ticking by. We crunched together through the bottleneck, but this time, with a sense that we might finally get to our destination, the pressed flesh didn’t feel as awkward or scary. When we got to the entrance, we flashed our purple tickets and sprinted to the metal detectors. There were dozens and it was fairly easy to get through. I dashed over to the Purple Area only to find all of the good views were taken.

Amazingly, I found myself scaling a tall wall to get a terrible view through the branches of a few trees. I’m not sure how I got up there. Adrenalin’s a wonder. But I could at least hear.

When Saddleback Church Pastor Rick Warren was announced, some scattered boos met him, but he turned those jeers into cheers as he capped off his invocation with the “Our Father” prayer. Shrewd move. It’s hard to boo the “Our Father.” I saw a elderly, silver-haired man in an Obama baseball cap climbing a tree to get a better view with binoculars. It struck me how desperate the crowd was to see their new president.

As Aretha Franklin sang “My Country ‘Tis of Thee” as only she can, I saw another man offer his shoulder for a stranger to step on so he could get down from a tree. Then Vice President Joe Biden was sworn in, whetting the crowd’s already ravenous appetite for the main attraction.

Then came “the moment.” The new presidential oath of office. No matter what your political leaning, this occasion can do nothing but swell your heart with pride. The civil and peaceful exchange of power. It’s electrifying. And when this simple oath was finished — a new president! Another new beginning in a country founded on revolution. One supporter standing on a monument waved Old Glory in the stinging wind and I felt such pride in my country. The crowd erupted into chants of “O-ba-ma, O-ba-ma.”

Then the new president gave us the good-news, bad-news routine. We’re at a terrible crossroads, but we’ve been there before, and if we have the wherewithal we can overcome.

Two of my favorite moments in the speech:

“On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn-out dogmas, that for far too long have strangled our politics. We remain a young nation, but in the words of Scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things.”

And: “The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works.”

Many in the crowd may have been in a mood for a rally stemwinder, and there were parts that sounded like a stump speech, but, overall, I think its respectful elegance yet forceful call to action will make it one of his more memorable ones.

Regardless, that harrowing experience in the crowd reinforced one thing for me: As Warren said, we are bonded by freedom. And we all care about each other a lot more than we’re willing to admit.

PAUL ANDERSON is the Daily Pilot’s city editor. He may be reached at paul.anderson@latimes.com or at (714) 966-4633.