Election Night

A taxi cab driver sat in his car parked on H St in Washington DC, just meters from the White House late one rainy Tuesday evening. Singles and five dollar bills littered the passenger seat of his car. These served as tokens of appreciation left by a gaggle of young adults huddled around his open window to hear the first words of our new President blaring from his car radio. Surrounding them, the revelry of the evening trumpeted on with the sounds of car horns and cheers of triumph. This was a day that will not soon be forgotten. A day that so many had been waiting for.

Shortly after the polls closed on the West Coast and Barack Obama was anointed the new President of the United States, throngs of people flooded Pennsylvania Avenue to rejoice in the victory for which they had so long hoped. Black and white, young and old all descended on the White House amid the beating of cow bells and the chants of “Yes We Can.” Surrounded by press from around the world, these supporters danced and yelled and called for the removal of President Bush, all while the American flag waved above the White House, signifying the presence of Mr. Bush within. Secret Service, stone-faced and professional, kept a watchful eye over the crowd, but did not interfere, simultaneously protecting both the Commander-in-Chief and our rights under the First Amendment.

No one would have guessed that such a scene of celebration and defiance would have come to pass. There were no signs nor chain emails calling for the congregation of the faithful once the ballots had been counted. Simply the excitement and enthusiasm for what lay ahead served as the necessary catalyst. Revelers were literally running down 16th street towards the White House as if to meet their destinies. As noted by news commentators the following morning, this was a scene more akin to faraway lands in Africa and the Middle East. It mirrored the excitement of a previously disenfranchised population, whose voices had been heard for the first time. But perhaps after eight long, divisive years, many of our own citizens felt similarly disenfranchised. The cathartic unfolding of a new path before us could only be fully experienced in the company of those who had felt similar frustrations. It was an evening of camaraderie, an evening of patriotism. Although none of us knew what the future would bring, for that one night, in that one instance, there was hope. A hope for a blurring of the lines separating the Blue States from the Red. A hope that government would again work for us, and not against us. And a hope that, finally, we could yet again be proud to call ourselves Americans.