Four years ago, I was watching a live feed of the election in the middle of Q-Tip's album release party at Santos. The night was emotional, triumphant, sexy, fun and totally unforgettable.
A lot has changed this time around. I was not sipping champagne with celebrities. And I was not having a quiet night in with my man or any intellectual friends. The day started with the realization that our cable TV and internet service were out because of the storm. My sister had no problem letting me watch the election results at her apartment, but could I babysit Ryan? Ok, fair deal. I could handle two kids. No problem. I packed a bag full off groceries to make the patriotic meal that I'd planned days in advance, cheeseburgers and homemade fries, and headed down to her house.
In hindsight, boiling hot oil in the tiny kitchen of a studio apartment with two toddlers running around while trying to pay attention to the election results was probably not the smartest idea. My mother walked in at 7pm to ketchup-covered kids running back and forth on oil-splattered, slippery floors peppered with pieces of meat and half-chewed slider buns and what seemed like hundreds of tiny cars and crayons.
By the time we dealt with the piles of dishes and the oily floors and the sticky kids it was 9pm and I was only paying attention to the tube peripherally. I could only see that Barack was behind in electoral votes. By the time the kids went down under blankets in front of the TV at 10, it was clear that Barack had the edge. Mike walked in from the restaurant at 11 with a bottle of wine, God bless his soul, and he waited up with me until 1:30am for the president's speech. This was probably the best part of the day, an unexpected bit of time together like the old days.