TROUBL

I woke up this morning like I do every other morning, annoyed at my alarm and wondering how was I going to get out of bed so early when I was still so groggy. I turned off the alarm and started to close my eyes, but then I remembered last night. “President Obama.” Repeat that a few times. “President Obama. President Obama.”

Last night , I heard it a lot. I watched the election results at a friend’s apartment on 127th Street and St. Nicholas in Harlem. We spent most of our time venting our anxiety on the television, making fun of the various pundits and Republicans, all nervous but optimistic.Then, around 11:00, the screen flashed an announcement: Barack Obama Elected the 44th President of the United States.

The street outside erupted. We ran to the window to look out and saw huge crowds of people pouring out of their buildings, yelling, running, screaming, crying, hugging, banging on pots and pans and drums and bells, skipping, jumping and laughing… Cars rolled by, horns blaring with people hanging out of windows and sun roofs. Firecrackers exploded nearby. The noise was nonstop, and almost deafening.

I’ve been in the Bronx when the Yankees won the World Series; been in Times Square on New Year’s Eve, been at huge rock concerts and I’ve never heard or seen anything like what I saw last night.

After McCain’s concession speech (which was marvelous) we took to the streets. If he’d conducted his campaign as smoothly and kindly–or even been able to deliver speeches that well–all along, last night might have gone very differently. We walked down to 125th, past the Apollo, where everyone was taking photographs of the marquee: “Congratulations, President-Elect Barack Obama.”

There were few police around. We walked through people running shirtless toward the gathering at the Jumbotron on Frederick Douglass, hugging strangers, pouring drinks and lighting up who-knows-what cigarettes.

The streets were mobbed when we finally got to the square. While police let the occasional vehicle through the crowds, they were helpless to keep people off the street signs, fire hydrants, traffic posts, windowsills, and every other available surface. People carried random musical instruments through the crowd. Obama’s face was everywhere–on posters, shirts, hats, stickers, buttons and fliers. And everywhere the word “Obama” was coming out of smiling mouths.

We watched the victory speech in awe, unable to hear much of what was said over the noise–the yelling, banging of pots, pans, drums, and other percussion. Not to mention, the sound of rain hitting our faces. Above us, on a sign post, people climbed up one-way arrows and beat the Frederick Douglass Boulevard sign. Behind me, someone yelled, “Oh my GOD. My President is BLACK.” Above it all, Barack Obama’s face, three stories tall, spoke to us from a screen. A face we all recognized as someone we know and understand, who had given us back something we’d forgotten for the last eight years–hope.

We were tired and knew it would take a while to get home, so after the speech we left the crowd, herded by police, and went north. We walked 20 blocks north to a bus on 145th. Again and again I heard, “The President is black!” Behind me a group of young men spouted: “Oh my GOD, I could be President! I’m gonna quit smoking tomorrow!”

I followed a group of women through a narrow construction corridor, when a man, leading an oncoming group, suddenly stopped inches away from the woman and wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace. Her jubilant yet surprised reaction, told me they’d never met before. Outside a packed bar on St. Nicholas Ave, a group of women waved their hands in the air, high-fived passers-by and chanted “Yes we DID! Yes we DID!” Riding the bus at 12:45 am, the passengers continued to speak of nothing but our new President.

I was so exhausted by the time I got home that I immediately passed out. The excitement of the night, after the long, tense, worried day had drained the last of my energy. I went to sleep knowing that I had just been a part of something gigantic and earth-shaking. I doubted if I’d ever see or hear anything like it again. I had never seen so many people so happy

I woke up this morning feeling more subdued, but on my way to work, and even now, I haven’t been able to stop smiling. The jubilation has calmed, as we must now look ahead to some of the most difficult times we have ever seen in this country. But a new day has dawned, and in it, no matter how hard things get, I think there will be HOPE. I can’t remember a time when I felt this country was so full of promise, and I think that many people my age will agree. Our leaders failed to inspire us our whole lives, so we never looked to them as men we could trust, much less derive inspiration. But now we’ve been woken up (I hope) from what Obama called “the myth of [our] generation’s apathy.” And it couldn’t have come at a better time. Mr. Obama said in his speech last night, “This victory alone is not the change we seek - it is only the chance for us to make that change.”

If the thousands of rejoicing, young, black people I saw last night are any indication, a huge group of Americans has just opened its eyes, stretched its limbs, and prepared itself for a whole new era, one in which we can begin to understand and live the stories we have heard of an America that can do anything it sets its mind to. We thought those days were past, but if we continue to believe in what happened last night and what that says about the possibilities of our country, we’ll get through these next few years with callouses on our hands, but with smiles on our faces.

Dig in America. Get ready for the ride of a lifetime. I’ve always liked them wild.