The past three days have taught me a lot about myself, and this country. I came to Washington, D.C. with a set schedule, a list of things to see and do, a plan.

But as I sit in my hotel room, watching Obama be sworn in as the next leader of our country-his pulpit a mere three blocks from where I am now– I know that plans don’t always work, and rightfully so.

If everything had gone as planned, I wouldn’t have been stranded at the National Cathedral on Sunday, cold and without my Metro card. I wouldn’t have met my Haitian cab driver Herbert, who has been driving taxis in the district for 32 years and loves his job wholeheartedly. He taught me the beauty of living a full life and had me laughing often in that short cab ride.

If everything had gone as planned, I wouldn’t have ripped my tights, stained my blazer or lost my new leather gloves. I also wouldn’t have felt the generosity of my fellow students and hotel staff. I wouldn’t have recognized that things are just things and very replaceable in comparison to the experiences I’ve had here.

If everything had gone as planned, I wouldn’t have gotten lost in the Cannon House Building, tears welling up in my eyes and on the phone with my mom while I tried to get my Inauguration ticket. I also wouldn’t have learned that I’m a rather capable person with a pretty good sense of direction-when I calm down long enough to ask for help.

If everything had gone as planned, I wouldn’t have been caught in a dangerous stampede of Inauguration-goers Tuesday morning, pushed and prodded for miles. I wouldn’t have had to make the hard decision to turn back and watch the whole thing from our hotel room, instead. And I wouldn’t have been scolded by the Dallas Observer’s blog Unfair Park for being a second-rate journalist, a “WASP” and an “SMU trust baby,” as two commentators so encouragingly wrote.

Yes, if everything had gone as planned, I would have seen firsthand our 44th president take his oath. I would have been one of the thousands upon thousands of bodies I now jealously watch as the television cameras pan across the Hill. And I would have written much more worthy blog posts for you to critique, Unfair Park.

But plans never seem to pan out as you first expect, and I’ve learned that that’s not such a bad thing, after all.

These past four days, I’ve been cold, hungry and tired. I’ve been frustrated beyond belief and homesick for southern hospitality. Plainly put, I’ve been a cry baby. But as I watch Obama on TV, goose bumps line my arms and I know I am in the right place. No matter where you are in this city, or country for that matter, right now, a renewed sense of hope is infectious and exactly what we need.

I needed to be reminded that spontaneity sometimes breeds the best moments in life-dancing with strangers in the street or eating Five Guys burgers and fries until I can barely move. I talked politics with a West African refugee and took pictures with peace activists. These are the moments that no itinerary, no agenda can predict.

And while my time here has made me hopeful in our new president and the future of our country, I know many of my fellow classmates are quite at arms length about the shift in power. For them, I offer the reminder that if things had stayed on course, Columbus wouldn’t have stumbled upon America, Lincoln wouldn’t have abolished slavery, and Alexander Fleming wouldn’t have discovered Penicillin.

So give this new guy a chance. No one’s saying you can’t be skeptical-our democracy relies on the checks, balances and watchdogs of Washington, D.C. And, I agree, the “Yes We Can” tagline is getting pretty old.

But don’t write off Obama just because he isn’t part of some status quo, or a plan, per se. Indulge in a little hope and let your plans veer a bit. You may just be pleasantly surprised.