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Subway Euphoria
How Obama changed New Yorkers from mean to nice, nay jubilant, last night.
You know how you carry little snapshots of loved ones in your pocket, to carry with you when you’re apart? Well I want to share with you this snapshot of my trip home on the F train tonight.
I watched the returns at Bell House, a cavernous bar in Park Slope Brooklyn filled with hundreds of people of every age and color watching CNN on an IMAX size movie screen. By turns, we screamed and danced. We counted down to each closing poll like New Years Eve. My friend Brian and I yelled at Blitzer to take off his pants and for King to touch the damn map again. When Obama spoke, we listened and then screamed and cried and danced to Digital Underground.
But at the end, you still gotta get home. My friend Zubeida and I look for a cab back to Manhattan. Hoots and hollers pour from the windows. People on bikes joy-scream as they pedal by. Everyone is smiling. But no cabs. So I turn to Zubeida and I say, “F it. Let’s take the F.” We go into the subway, following a deliriously happy sweet couple. I swipe my Metrocard, and it’s empty. Damnit. The nice young man of the sweet couple turns to me and says, “You can have a swipe if you need it.”
I’ve lived in New York City my entire life, and I’ve seen many acts of neighborly goodness big and small, but this F journey feels different than anything I’ve ever seen.
Me: “Really?” A free swipe from a stranger is an act of extreme kindness, akin to the offer of a kidney.
“Yes,” he says. “Of course.” I swipe. Then Zubeida goes to use her Metrocard but does a bad double-swipe and gets blocked out. The nice man offers her a swipe as well.
“Oh my God,” she says. “You’re kidding.”
“Tonight,” he says, “everyone can have a swipe.”
We go to the platform and everyone is floating on air. For the first time in as long as I can remember, the lights of the F train snake around the corner in under a minute. (Everything is coming up roses!) We step into the car, and in the usual New York way, the little gang aboard is a delightfully motley mush. The Euro-ish guy in clear plastic glasses and a funny little cap. The Asian guy in khakis. The hipster in knit wool arm warmers. The black chick with headphones. The sweet Metrocard sharing couple, and a few others.
Just before the doors close, we hear a big whoop from outside. In a spontaneous act of call and response, we all whoop and start clapping back, united by euphoria. We smile at each other, each of us jaw dropped at this moment in history that has pulled us out of our silent New York shells. It’s like a first kiss, but between a group of underground strangers. We like it, and we want more. The next stop comes—Smith and 9th. More giddy people climb aboard, and again we erupt into applause and whoops. The newcomers grin all big at this overflowing silliness. The next stop comes, Carroll, and when the newbies with red white and blue balloons get on, we applaud and laugh again.
By the time we’re at Bergen, we’ve established a drill. Each new group gets a subterranean ovation for being a part of this wonderful thing, for being a part of this New York niceness. I’ve lived in New York City my entire life, and I’ve seen many acts of neighborly goodness big and small, but this F journey feels different than anything I’ve ever seen. It feels bigger than neighbors. It feels like our hearts are beating in sync, with each other, with the churning wheels of the train.
When the doors open at York Street, Hipster Armwarmers yells out, “Last applause before Manhattan!”, and we all give it our biggest Whoop yet. Then we streak forward, a big comet of love taking in and spitting out happy sparks all the way uptown.
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I watched the results in New York City, with my boyfriend, not outside, but in his apartment (located in the West Village). Although I was indoors only in the company of one other person, I still got chills watching all the people in Times Square on TV looking like it was New Year's Eve, even before it was announced Obama won. All those people in Grant Park were amazing too. Then, shortly after 11pm they said it, Obama was the president-elect, and I heard cheers outside from the street, which continued on and off throughout the night. Part of me wanted to go out to a bar to get a drink and be amongst "the people" to celebrate. But I was too tired, it was a long 21 months. So instead, I passed out on the couch watching CNN, along with my boyfriend who passed out earlier than me. I woke him up to come into bed, and we fell back to sleep knowing that all was right with the world once again.
As exciting events go, election night 2008 pretty much blew the needle off the Wow-O-Meter. While everyone's perceptions of the day emanate from a deeply personal perspective, it seemed apparent that the promise of change resonated fiercely with millions of Americans
I could not stop looking - and marveling -- at the faces in the crowds. From the west coast to Manhattan to Grant Park in Chicago, masses of people with eyes shining brightly watched with rapt attention as the voting results were announced state by state. The silhouettes, the skin, the age, the gender changed from face to face, but the same glow of hopeful anticipation brought kinship to strangers
Now as we bask in the radiance of that night, an opportunity has been given to us. The enormous challenges at hand for the new administration cannot be resolved solely by President-elect Obama and his staff. The ground swell of support must rise up and participate in creating a brighter America.
Not everyone can become a public servant or join the Peace Corps. Few of us will sign up with Teach for America or take a government job. But you can help your disabled neighbor rake his leaves. Or volunteer your time at a nursing home. You can mentor an inner city kid. Or cook dinner for a homeless shelter. Small acts of kindness are those first steps that create a strong community; and strong communities will mend a broken nation.
I think I speak mostly for myself when I say the first step is letting go of the anger and frustration that's been felt so deeply during the past eight years. As I lay in bed election night, I realized that the promise of a better future would not shine so brightly had the recent times not been so bleak.
Is it possible that we owe "W" a thank you? Was the darkness that arose around him the catalyst that thrust a historically reluctant country to embrace an African American leader? Was it overwhelming despair that opened our hearts allowing us to act on the words of Martin Luther King, Jr. and judge a man based on "the content of his character and not the color of his skin"?
Let's begin our practice of giving by sending grace and goodwill to the President-elect. Light a candle, say a prayer, hold a good thought, surround him in light - whatever your style or manner, put your positive energy into manifesting a future of peace and prosperity.
"Yes we can" should be our on-going mantra, a reminder of all that is possible.
prattlefromtheflatlands dot blogspot dot com
It truly is a wondrous time to be alive. I still can't believe the last week actually happened.
this was the most sentimental cliche thing i've ever read. u can do better jesse, i am a fan, not a hater. come join the opposition, the dark side is much more fun
Thank you.
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