I got out of work at an OK time on Tuesday. Got a good parking spot at the convention center where the results party was taking place. Sailed through Secret Servive going through my bag and monitoring my passage through the metal detectors.
While I was standing in line, I got to talking with one of Hillary Clinton’s staff members. Asked him if he’s having a good day and whether things were going his way so far. (This was a good hour-plus before the polls closed.) He was sweet and kind and grateful for a relaxed moment.
I got upstairs to the event area and found a decent spot in the half-full already room. I could see the room-sized CNN broadcast and the actual CNN cameras (and every other network) that were pointed right at us.
Pano …
Awhile later, the house was packed. And someone tapped me and asked if I wanted to move up to the front. It was the gentleman I’d talked to downstairs! I said thank you and went to stand to the front-left of the podium.
Sweet.
I got a bird’s eye view of the first poll results of the night. 
What I wish I could have photographed? The energy in the room. The cheers as our candidate won three states and took the lead in the other two. The boos over Donald Trump’s mysterious victories.
Wish I videoed the couple thousand of us singing “Na Na Na Na. Hey hey hey. Goodbye!” when Marco Rubio ended his candidacy. That was a moment in time to remember.
I mean. He was probably better than Ted Cruz. But still. It’s entertaining to watch the GOP cannibalize itself. As long as that circus ends in November.
In any event, I had so much fun. I loved that night. Talking to like-minded people who watch the news and read books and think about the consequences of today’s words and actions in the generations to come.
We heard Trunp was going to speak at 9 p.m. from just a few miles away. We speculated we’d see our girl at 8:55.
We called it.
She was bold and full of light and life and fire. Oh the fire. Every photo I have is of her driving it home now serious this all is. To us. To her.
That’s what I needed to see. That it isn’t just a campaign. Now it feels like a cause.
The news would later say she should have smiled. You know. Instead of listening. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
I don’t post much on Facebook. I’m not up for a fight. I’m not taking the bait left for me by people I don’t call friends. (Although I expect and love the tough love from my boys.)
I ain’t her and I’m not her apologist. I’ve spent enough time apologizing for my candidates and not enough demanding the same from everyone else’s.
And no. Nobody’s done anything for me. But I’m having fun.
I mean. I got to stand 20 feet from a former First Lady. And the presumptive Democratic nominee. And maybe, just maybe, the next U.S. President.
Why would I have a bad word to say about anybody or anything when I choose to be a part of an important process … and my presence is welcomed?
Afterward, I stopped at Mellow Mushroom for a glass of wine. Met three other attendees I fell in love with. I should have flirted with the guy next to me. We talked rapid-fire about books and foreign policy and trade with China until my Thai Dye pizza to go arrived. We wished each other a wonderful night and life and a Trump-free Nov. 10. And I’m not going to wish I’d stayed longer. Even though, well, I do.
A pretty good night, all told. The kind of night that restores your faith in the world and your place in it.