Hannah Jones/Winonan

Democracy Fever and America’s Post-Election Day Recovery

I will probably never forget my first presidential election.

I’d always been interested in electoral processes. Four years ago, I was 16 and glued to my parents’ television, watching, mystified and bewildered, as the map filled up with blocks of blue and red, biting my nails at the electoral leaps that came with the denser states, wishing that it was over already and I knew the results.

That was before I ever cast a ballot.

This year, I watched that same map fill up with painstaking slowness, knowing that somewhere in the gargantuan cascades of ballots, my vote was swimming along, getting counted, mattering.

This made the process all the more stressful. My chips were also in the pot. Whatever way the decision would swing, I would have affected the outcome. My emotions were conflicted: excited, mostly, but also nervous. This was, after all, kind of a big deal—not only for selecting the future leader of the country, but also for the two amendments included on the ballot.

When I was 16, I was a spectator. Now, at 20, I’m tangled up in the whole thing, watching my future as an American citizen unfold.

Stressful? Yes. But, thankfully, I wasn’t alone.

“Stop ‘projecting!’ That’s not what ‘breaking news’ means!” a fellow watcher exclaimed. We all huddled in front of the TV, some with blankets, some with soup, some shouting at the oblivious staff of the CNN Newsroom and some simply starting, silent, motionless.

“They’ve only counted seven percent of the vote,” someone exclaimed. “Why are they showing us this? It doesn’t even matter!”

“And what is taking Florida so freaking long?”

“Gosh, Florida.”

“Stupid Florida.”

One of us got excited and gasped, pointing at the screen. “Is that it?” she asked. “Has the amendment been—?”

“Eleven percent of the vote,” someone else droned.

She slumped in her chair, confessing to feel feverish. Tensions were running a bit high, but they were even higher elsewhere. On campus, there was already a Republican victory party assembled, no doubt raptly watching the progress as we were.

Elsewhere, the Vote No campaign committee was likely holding a collective breath, waiting for what seemed like eons to find out whether or not their efforts had been a success.

People sat, watched, waited and bit their lips not just throughout campus, but all over the country. At that very moment, the candidates themselves were looking on with their families, probably cursing every speculative declaration and “breaking news update” as we did.

If we thought the night was stressful, it was likely Barack Obama and Mitt Romney could use some soup, too.

Finally, after a night of pent up frustration with the American electoral process, news media and general and the otherworldly good looks of Anderson Cooper, the results were in. Barack Obama was granted four more years in office, and neither the Marriage Amendment nor the Voter ID Amendment would be passed.

It was over.

The next morning, we all stretched weary muscles, got out of our respective beds, and greeted a day that would be free of nasty attack ads for the presidential campaign, politically polar stickers and endless polls and surveys.

The political signage would remain for a few weeks, like Christmas lights that linger until New Years… or next Christmas.

Life, on the surface, returned to normal. And, for a moment, it was nice to catch my breath and stop thinking about my vote clamoring among the thousands and thousands of its brethren. The decision has been made. It’s out of our hands. Now it’s up to those we chose to lead us to proceed.

In the meantime, I’ve got some leftover soup and some sleep to catch up on.

Contact Hannah at [email protected]