Tuesday night I was with about 20 people on West 86th Street in Manhattan, with one television tuned to CNN, and a second to Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert's giddy, subversive campaign coverage. At one point a correspondent was speaking in front of an animated forest background from Bambi, with bluebirds fluttering behind his head as the title character ambled onscreen, in front of him. Later a "McCain spokesperson" spoke while posing against a background of M.C. Escher's 1953 lithograph Relativity, a Bermuda Triangle of endless staircases.
About 10:30 or so, one woman leaped up excitedly after getting a text message from a friend in London, "They've called the election!" We were all a bit shocked since the statistics noted "3% of precincts reporting." But a short time later Obama's win was more than speculation.
Many at my party wept during Obama's stirring speech in Grant Park, another oratory triumph. (A singer friend in the U.K. called the next day, commenting on his delivery, pacing, phrasing and intonation, all perfectly calibrated to give his content maximum impact.)
Three of us left about 1:00 a.m. going downtown, and had to take the subway since there were no taxis. At each stop, the train doors would open to shouts of "Obama! Obama!" from the platform. We arrived at 14th Street and went above ground, where we found crowds milling around, excitedly talking on cell phones, with people driving by and shouting from open car windows.
Since it was almost 2:00 a.m., it felt unwise to call people in this time zone, so I dialed as many as I could think of on the West Coast, where it was "only" 11:00 p.m. All were elated, albeit tempered by grim predictions on the fate of Proposition 8. After a half-hour of conversation, I finally went home, and watched more campaign coverage until about 4:00 in the morning.
With just three hours' sleep, the next day was a fuzzy blur, yet I couldn't stop smiling. And I still can't.