BELATED ELECTION NIGHT COVERAGE: Tears! Screams! Endless Booze! Recyling SCANDAL At The DFL Victory Party!

Photo By John Hoff

HNC Housing Director Jeff Skrenes and I made plans to hit the victory parties on election night, though, for the record...I voted for Ralph Nader and, more notably, Dean Barkley for the U.S. Senate Race which has now turned into such an acrimonious recount.

You see...

...Green Party candidate Cynthia McKinney lost my vote with her bat (expletive) crazy statement about the federal government executing 5,000 prisoners and dumping their bodies in swamps during the Katrina disaster, click here.

It's Not Easy Being Green

When you're as fanatically committed as I am to voting for a third party candidate, the criteria for getting my vote becomes notoriously low. Making statements that are bat (expletive) crazy doesn't necessarily disqualify a person. If McKinney had said, "The United States should phase out the internal combustion engine within ten years and use nothing but clean alternative sources of power" I would have thought, "Madness! Lunacy! But what a way to provoke discussion. She's got my vote!"

But McKinney's insane rantings...which were her own, I should add, and didn't even have the thin veneer of legitimacy of being an ESTABLISHED conspiracy theory...made me cringe. Yes, made me ASHAMED of the Green Party for allowing this woman to carry the party standard during the presidential race. Click here if you're not up-to-date on this obscure third party issue, and why should you be? With moon bat candidates like this, the media and the two major parties have every right to ignore and shut out the Green Party. WE HAVE TO DO BETTER.

It's A Big Democratic Party Tent, And Thank Goodness!

Where was I? Oh, yes, going around to DFL victory parties with my friend Jeff, careful not to mention my Green Party affiliation to ANYBODY.

We first went to Trocaderos Night Club, because Jeff heard Congressman Keith Ellison would be there, and Jeff had done some pretty serious door-knocking for Ellison. (Click here)

There was no cover charge, but nothing was free. I told Jeff I'd be his designated driver so he should go ahead and imbibe. There was a jazz band, and a gigantic big screen television hovering above the whole ball room or, at least, it was some kind of high-quality PROJECTION of an image from television. Every time Obama appeared to take another state, a cheer would go up from the crowd. The policy-wonk types were following other issues with nearly-equal intensity: Prop 8 in California. The Franken/Coleman race. Michelle Bachmann and her stunning new ability to "channel" the spirit of "Tailgunner" Joe McCarthy.

Jeff hadn't brought his camera, and mine was running low on batteries because of my constant need to use a flash under low-light conditions. Jeff figured we had enough time to run to his vehicle and fetch his camera before Obama was announced as the winner, and "this place will go insane." Jeff wanted to be around for that.

Shouting In The Streets

We walked along rain-slicked streets, found the camera in question, and we were walking back...when somebody shouted from a balcony: OBAMA! HE DID IT! OBAMA!!!!!!!!

I could hear other shouting. Distant horns honking. I sensed something in the air. Something had changed, somewhere.

"Do you think one of the major networks just called it for Obama?" I asked Jeff. We hurried back. Outside the door of Trocaderos, in the area where smokers endure their exile from society, a tall and lovely woman yelled to us, "Did you hear?! It's OBAMA! OBAMA DID IT! HE WON!!!"

"Who called it?" I asked, as Jeff rushed inside.

"McCain conceded," she said.

"According to WHO?!" I demanded.

"It's on CNN," she replied.

I later learned that, at the University of Minnesota, students had literally been dancing in the streets. Inside, we watched the McCain concession speech. We watched the Obama acceptance speech. Television gives us all a collective sense of experiencing history, but we are really all experiencing TELEVISION. When people are dancing in the streets, THAT is history. When we all watch television together, that is TELEVISION. When I turn and see that somebody has tears running down their face, THAT is history.

We're Always Going To Remember This Moment...On Television

It's a fine line, between experiencing TELEVISION versus experiencing HISTORY. I kept turning away from the screen, watching the crowd watching television.

At one point the television had the words "President-Elect Barrack Obama."

"TAKE A PICTURE OF THAT!" Jeff cried. "That's the first time we're seeing those words."

I indulged him. It was, after all, his camera. I took a picture of the television.

On the day Princess Diana died, I was in Seattle and caught the story on television. At that moment, my little son was just a few months old. He was "getting some tummy time," straining to lift his head. He pushed with his little fists, struggling to raise his head, until he grew red in the face, but still he struggled. I took a picture of him. That's my historical experience of that moment. At certain moments, we are so afraid to turn away from the television, afraid we will "miss" something. We almost feel like we are there in Chicago's Grant Park with Obama, or near the stage with McCain.

We are not there. We are watching television. And our experience of history will be more personal, more satisfying, if we turn for a moment and interact with the people near us.

Speaking From The Heart On A Night Of History

Somebody acting as the "master of ceremonies" urged individuals to take the stage, take the microphone, and speak what was on their minds. About 20 people did this, and I was one. So was Jeff. I spoke about the experience of suspecting the big moment had arrived, hearing the shouting in the streets, hearing the distant echoes of a city going crazy with delight...finally arriving to find out from a random person standing outside, and THAT BECOMES THE MOMENT. We will always remember this night, and where we were...(watching television).

Jeff spoke about how, after he'd heard Obama speak, he'd called it: that guy will be elected president. Of course, Jeff figured it would be in 2012 or 2016, not 2008! Others took the stage and spoke. I managed to get some of their pictures. At some point, a young woman posed with the artistic Obama mural, like she wanted to have a picture of herself with the sign like a trophy of the night. I told Jeff, "Hey, let me get a picture of you with the sign."

The first person was a trend-setter, the second (Jeff) was an "early innovator," and after that everybody seemed to want a picture with the sign. At some point we relocated the young woman who had told us the news in the doorway. I sort of halfway apologized, saying I had been going crazy to find out "who called it" because we'd heard the shouting all the way along the street. She posed for a picture. The first picture I snapped was just her FOREHEAD, since I was still struggling with the functions of Jeff's camera.

Also, his camera seemed to have a long shutter speed, which produced interesting effects with the images it captured. I was having fun with THAT all night.

Where Is Everybody? And Are They Recyling?

Jeff kept commenting how there weren't THAT many people at Trocaderos, and he had been to much bigger DFL events at Trocaderos. I said, "Well, there must be a bigger victory party and everybody is there." Jeff also noted that Keith Ellison had made an early appearance, but Jeff hadn't seen Ellison in quite a while. I think Jeff made some calls. Word was Ellison was at the Crowne Plaza in St. Paul, where the party was FRIGGING HUGE.

We wanted to go to the FRIGGING HUGE party. I drove Jeff's car. At the Crowne Plaza, the first thing I noticed was there were almost as many people spilling into the street and standing in the smokers area than had been at the whole Tracadero's night club, at least at the point when we left. The Crowne Plaza party was a blow-out. A group of young men stood on a stairwell landing and chanted "Obama! Obama!" People went up and down the escalator, giving "high fives" and then boarding again for another ride. The trash cans couldn't keep up with the booze bottles though THIS GREEN PARTY MEMBER WOULD HAVE BEEN HAPPIER TO SEE A BIT MORE RECYCLING. I saw no evidence any recycling was happening AT ALL.

Step it up, Democrats. With power comes responsibility.

Jeff and I met a couple of aides from Congressman Ellison's office. One of them was named "Alison," and I thought that was cute: Ellison's Alison.

I ran into some classmates from the Humphrey Institute. It was like New Years for democrats, but Christmas for policy wonks. The highlight of my evening may have been talking to City Councilman Don Samuels about "responsiveness" from our city council reps. More on this later.

Jeff knew one of the state reps well enough to be invited into the suite, which was great: there was a veggie tray there, and I managed to get supper. On a table near the pool, I also "ground scored" some orphan chicken wings, looking for a home: IN MY TUMMY!!!!! Actually, Jeff knew a lot of people. He got a "bear hug" from Congressman Ellison. But, constantly, we were stopping to find out information about one pressing issue: HOW IS AL FRANKEN DOING IN THE RACE AGAINST NORM COLEMAN?

The question went late into the night, as we listened to the car radio on the way home. We figured the question would be answered in the morning, but it wasn't. The answer drags on to this very moment. I had all night to contemplate my vote for Independent Dean Barkley, and whether it was the right thing.

The Car Knows The Way Home

The most hardcore policy wonks stayed late, speaking intently in little huddles, but at some point even Jeff thought it was time to call it a night. My van was parked in front of "Patty Cake's" house, where we'd stopped and chatted before heading out, drinking some fake champagne in anticipation of the demise of 3119 4th St. N.

Jeff only had several blocks to drive, but I told him YOU ARE NOT DRIVING. And Jeff deferred to me, because I was his designated driver. So we stopped at my van, which I moved from "Patty's" driveway, then I drove Jeff home in his own vehicle, sacking out amid Jeff's unpacked boxes. I had not imbibed all night, so it was time for a single shot of Jeff's tequila. Since I couldn't find a shot glass, I found a glass votive-candle holder wrapped in newspaper and drank from THAT.

New apartment, new president-elect, new world of possibility.

When morning came, we still didn't have a solid answer in the Franken/Coleman race.