Congratulations

When we heard Obama had won Florida, the three-mile line into Grant Park roared into some kind of crazy, disjointed Mexican wave. I said Al-right! and offered Brian a high-five. He laughed, slapped my awkward palm. You never high-fived anyone before, have ya? I grinned and shook my head.

We waited two hours in that line, but we talked and chatted and laughed the whole time. Brian and his friends are easy to get along with; and so are seventy-thousand other people when you're all on the same side.

It was strange to be in such a large, peaceful crowd. I expected security guards and cops, telling us to get back, to keep in line, but there were none. Or were there? Every tenth person is a secret agent, someone said. Up above, police snipers sat on every skyscraper; helicopters thundered overhead.

When the night was over, when Obama had spoken and the crowd had chanted yes we can and I had thought, wow, yes they did, I hugged Brian very tight and said congratulations. I'm not sure what else to say to anyone. I spent the whole day yesterday in downtown Chicago, just wandering around. I wanted to buy a beer? Congratulations, I said. A box of matches? Congratulations. A fancy lunch with a complete stranger? Congratulations. Nobody seemed to mind. Where you from? Well, welcome to America. It's a new country alright. High-five.