Letting our breath out and our hair down

I had planned to spend part of the evening in Virginia, where BK was hosting a watch party, and then to cruise up to 5*j's for a Silver Spring bash. But the best-laid plans went gang awry when Virginia's numbers were tighter than expected; the idea of getting on the train or into a cab (driving was, hic, not an option) and being cut off from a constant feed of TV and interweb news was terrifying. So I ended up sitting with BK and friends, flipping between MSNBC, CNN, and the Daily Show, while BK himself loaded and reloaded FiveThirtyEight and the CNN.com state and county pages as we asked demanded ("Give us the Prince William returns!" "No, but Arlington first!" "Wait wait wait, is Indiana really turning blue? The home of the Klan, THAT Indiana?"). We got more and more hopped up on drinks, sugar, and numbers, and then Jon Stewart, a fellow W&M graduate, announced that Virginia was being called for Obama. And then he said, "We would like to announce that now, as of 11 PM, Barack Obama is America's next president."

A pause that seemed long, and then there was a clamor for CNN and MSNBC, BK flipping on the Ode to Joy at volume 11, and from there on all I really remember is a welter of shouting and crying and an incoherent burst of toasts that wiped out a bottle of excellent German mead in the name of "the 21st century!" "the America we dreamed of!" "everything we worked for!" and hugs and yet more tears. Oh, and Obama-logo cupcakes.

But eventually you've got to get home, and Metro was closed, and come to find out, free cabs were in very short supply. I ended up shepherding a trio of German schoolteachers onto a downtown-bound bus, assuring them that it would take them to within walking distance of their hotel. They had come for a week to see the election, and they seemed a little disappointed at the lack of celebration in the streets of Arlington. I figured DC doesn't really party and that the earlier televised festivities had already broken up.

Hah. We heard the first screaming whoops as we rolled through Georgetown, and Dupont from K Street north was the best party I've ever seen in this self-conscious city. People high-fived and cheered anyone who smiled; cars honked incessantly in a triple beat as their passengers screamed and waved flags out windows or sunroofs or off the backs of pick-ups; chants broke out as people passed one another on the sidewalks; fireworks exploded over Adams Morgan and U Street. The teachers hugged me warmly when they found their hotel; "Congratulations," said one. "We feel it is a privilege to be here tonight." The driver of the bus I eventually caught heading home wouldn't take fares; his passengers, packed together hip to hip, laughed and cheered, hugging one another over jolts in the road or chattering as the last of the buzz gave way to incoherent fatigue. I staggered through my door around 3 AM, happy and exhausted.

I mean, I dunno about you guys, but I had a hell of a night.