Election Night
Jen and I hung out at the Spitfire last night with a couple hundred other people who were, with us, drinking, watching the election returns, and talking loudly at each other as the reports from around the country came in, broadcast on the sports bar’s twenty-something flat-screen TVs.
The mood was fairly celebratory as the crowd was made up almost entirely of white middle-class liberals who were enjoying immensely seeing Republican candidates go down hard from coast-to-coast. The cheers for Rick Santorum’s concession speech were particularly raucous.
I had a good time talking to a guy named Roman, an owner of a trucking company, who had been invited by the Republican party, a year or so ago, to be honored as “Small Businessman of the Year;” receiving his prize was contingent upon paying the $5000.00 a plate entrance fee to the awards dinner, which, as a lifelong Democrat, he found hilarious.
We wondered together whether Barak Obama will be the Democratic nominee for President; Roman said that his dream ticket would be the Senator from Illinois for the top spot with Hilary as his running mate. I myself find it hard to imagine that she’ll settle for number two. But we’ll see; anything’s got to be an improvement over the last six years.
I’d been to the Spitfire before, to watch some World Cup matches; those times, I was one of only half a dozen patrons in the place. Last night was a very different scene: the place was so packed, you could hardly move; the wait staff was swamped, and lots of people were illuminated by the glows of their laptops as they checked results and blogged, I guess, in real time.
Still, the event did have a kind of sporting event feel about it that struck me as a bit odd. Cheering at a sports bar? Is this what politics has become?
And if so, could we make sure that the Steelers run next time?
The mood was fairly celebratory as the crowd was made up almost entirely of white middle-class liberals who were enjoying immensely seeing Republican candidates go down hard from coast-to-coast. The cheers for Rick Santorum’s concession speech were particularly raucous.
I had a good time talking to a guy named Roman, an owner of a trucking company, who had been invited by the Republican party, a year or so ago, to be honored as “Small Businessman of the Year;” receiving his prize was contingent upon paying the $5000.00 a plate entrance fee to the awards dinner, which, as a lifelong Democrat, he found hilarious.
We wondered together whether Barak Obama will be the Democratic nominee for President; Roman said that his dream ticket would be the Senator from Illinois for the top spot with Hilary as his running mate. I myself find it hard to imagine that she’ll settle for number two. But we’ll see; anything’s got to be an improvement over the last six years.
I’d been to the Spitfire before, to watch some World Cup matches; those times, I was one of only half a dozen patrons in the place. Last night was a very different scene: the place was so packed, you could hardly move; the wait staff was swamped, and lots of people were illuminated by the glows of their laptops as they checked results and blogged, I guess, in real time.
Still, the event did have a kind of sporting event feel about it that struck me as a bit odd. Cheering at a sports bar? Is this what politics has become?
And if so, could we make sure that the Steelers run next time?
posted by Professor Dave at 9:54 AM
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