I was supposed to liveblog Election Night, the best night of my or anyone's life, and unfortunately I couldn't. Here, as a substitute, is a reconstruction -- a retroactive liveblog! -- of the events that prevented me from liveblogging. (I know. The internets are too amazing.)
6:45 AM: Mr. Ben and I wake up simultaneously, look at each other, and agree to run to the polls.
7:15 AM: We arrive at P.S. 282, check out all the people in front of us, and hope that waiting in line to vote is as patriotic as paying taxes.
8:00 AM: I pull the lever for Mr. Barack Obama.
8:01 AM: I realize I forgot to say a little prayer while inside the voting booth. Silently, I recite the sh'ma.
9:00 AM: Go to work.
9:30 AM - 5:00 PM: Read lots and lots of coverage. Begin feeling ill. Take a break from the computer; walk around the block. Return.
5:10 PM: Yup, definitely ill. Hide in the conference room where it's dark and cool.
5:30 PM: Still hiding. Chipper McCheerful keeps me company, saying reassuring things.
5:35 PM: Mr. Ben and Rebecca appear to say more reassuring things. We watch an episode of How I Met Your Mother -- I am gambling on the curative powers of Neil Patrick Harris.
6:00 PM: NPH has failed me. We decide to take a cab home.
6:05 PM: Hail a cab.
6:06 PM: Throw up in the cab.
6:07 PM: Sit on the Union Square curb next to a pile of my vomit looking at my stained suede boots. Mr. Ben runs to get cleaning supplies. People pass by and laugh, "Hey, look! That girl just threw up in the cab!" The driver shakes his head at me and mutters about drunks. Mentally I browse through low moments in my life to see where this one ranks.
6:30 PM - 11:00 PM: Shivering on the bathroom floor in green-tinted misery.
11:05 PM: Mr. Ben checks my phone, which has been receiving text after text. "We won," he tells me gently.
11:15 PM: I throw up one last time in celebration and finally go to sleep. All night, I dream of my stomach and Pennsylvania, which have somehow fused to become one anxiety-causing entity. I blame John McCain.
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2 comments:
Oh honey. I didn't know the part about throwing up in the cab and waiting at union square. That's pretty awful. Especially since I heavily advocated for you to take a cab. I'm sorry about that. I also had no idea that you prayed in the voting booth!
When did my name become Rebklyn? It is my twitter name, but I'm not sure about it spreading to other parts of the internets yet. And, unrelated to anything, I posted on my blog for the first time in months.
Fair point -- I changed it. It just feels weird to me to say someone's name without linking to anything. If you keep blogging, that will make things so much easier!
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