Marianne in Manhattan

Last night I went to the New York Public Library to see a bunch of really smart people bounce around their ideas on “What Happens Now?” that the big O has vanquished the McDemon. What a sight it was, seeing these intellectual elite as giddy as they can possibly get, making heady claims that this has brought “if not the end of racism, then the end of white supremacy.” Robert Silvers, the ageing editor of the New York Review of Books, made the best call. He shuffled up to the lectern and declared “I can’t recall such a moment of exhaltation, and exultation, since the end of World War II.”

(Obama cupcakes featured heavily during an election night party)

There’s no denying that something very special has just happened, right? People all the world over, coming together in blissful agreement, unified by an inspiring idea, and off-their-t*ts high on hope. As the sky is falling on Wall Street and this country is in an obscenely dramatic economic crisis, America delivers a brilliantly monumental event. For the most part I don’t think Obamamania got as weird or scary or cult-like as some pundits would have you believe. Okay, I may have cringed just a little at the repetitive “Yes We Can” refrains during Obama’s victory speech, but I’m pretty sure if I had been standing in Grant Park among hundreds of thousands of like-minded people on election night, this level-headed citizen of the world would have been screaming it at the top of her lungs.

The atmosphere in the Democratic heartland that is New York was intoxicating, and this was no doubt an awesome time to be in the city. It was also the perfect opportunity for me to shake off some of the cynicism that has prevented me giving much attention to political matters in the past. Never mind that I, like a convicted felon, couldn’t vote. I was glued to the election coverage anyway, listening to commentators, watching the debates, getting up to speed on which states were red and which were blue, and following the maths on the electoral votes. Somehow all the detail became as compelling as the idea itself. Thoroughly seduced by the spectacle, and whipped into a personal frenzy by the undeniable sexiness of it all, a couple of days before the election I hit rock bottom. An Obama T-shirt you can explain, but nothing screams propaganda victim like my buying this Obama doll – “An action figure we can believe in”. Oh, the shame.

Sure, McCain clearly lost his mind somewhere along the campaign trail, and Sarah Palin’s incapacity to string an unscripted sentence together didn’t do her any favours. But, let’s admit, at the end of the day Obama just won this thing on his good looks. Youthful, relaxed, handsome, charismatic, strong and new. He looks, walks, speaks and jokes through all the parts perfectly. With the gestalt of a natural leader, he has people dancing and cheering in the streets. You can’t help but get all caught up in it. It was just like in the movies, when the hero scores the emblematic victory against all odds. Always a thrilling moment.