Election Day: A Beautiful Weather for Democracy

I sat on an Amtrak headed to Union Station across from two classmates from my political science class. All proudly bearing “I Voted” stickers and Obama-Biden pins, our first presidential election evoked a sense of personal history with the public reflecting the same notion. November 4, 2008 was a different kind of Election Day. The candidates wore a different kind of face, the campaigns cut down new paths, the air breathed foreshadowing warmth, and I cast a ballot.

Chicago screamed Obama. Every third person wore some form of Obama pride. Street vendors abandoned their knock off Louis Vouitton purses, while the city flocked to purchase overpriced Obama pins. Overstuffed Starbucks handed complimentary coffees to quick moving line flashing their election gear. And I waited in the middle of Columbus drive starting at three pm – an occurrence reserved only for Taste of Chicago and Lollapalooza. My Election Night ticket stated that gates would not open until 8:30pm, but with a line forming at one pm, the city started allowing Obama fans to wait at closer checkpoints.

Grant Park held the familiar comforts with foreign elements. An army of press with flashbulbs as their ammo replaced the scattered music journalists sneaking in front of crowds at Lollapalooza. Well-suited Secret Service men replaced the Chicago Park District employees in tees at Taste. Chicago remained Chicago with sophisticated pride.

I sat with my family and 200,000 others watching a jumbo screen of CNN while one family member held down our stage-view spots. Every time a state turned blue, the crowd cheered, and the energy elevated. After Pennsylvania, our smiles couldn’t be suppressed. After Ohio, our hope tiptoed to reality. At 9:59:55pm, the crowd chanted, “5-4-3-2-1”. And with the final polls closed, Anderson Cooper announced Barack Obama the President-elect.

In pandemonium, strangers embraced, tears shed, and America flipped to a new chapter. When President-elect Obama walked on stage with his family and running mate, the crowd waved their American flags vigorously. Obama’s victory refreshed my hope in politics. A grassroots movement can put a man in the Oval Office; we do have a voice.
His speech was the cherry on top of an election sundae, proving that “in the face of impossible odds, people who love their country can change it”.

After an evening of Chicago pride, I wish the White House relocated to 1600 S. Michigan.

Happy One Week Anniversary, New Era.