James Hynes

My lizard brain this morning is still pretty hysterical, but it's a happy kind of hysterical. I was up until 1:30 am last night, but set my alarm for 6 this morning so I could go out and get a New York Times before they were all gone. In the end, I woke up at 5, listened to the radio for a bit while I lounged in bed, then went out at 5:30 in search of a Times. I bought the only two copies they had at my local Walgreens—one for me and one for my wife, who asked me to get her one, too—then I went over to Randall's, my local 24-hour supermarket, and bought one there, too, to wrap in plastic and keep in the closet with my copy of the Times from September 12, 2001.

It's windy and overcast in Austin this morning, which is actually a lot like the weather in Michigan 28 years ago, the day after Ronald Reagan was elected. I still remember very distinctly my feeling of disbelief that day as I walked the streets of Ann Arbor in the chill, November gloom, just thinking over and over again, "Ronald Reagan just got elected president. How did that happen?" I really felt that I was sleeping through some kind of weird, slow-motion nightmare, and that any moment I'd wake up and it would turn out that Carter was still president and Reagan was still just a B-list actor. Today, under a similarly gloomy sky, I feel the mirror image of that disbelief—something giddier and happier, but no less surreal. My brother Mike in LA just sent me an e-mail that said "Pinch me," and that sort of sums up how I feel, too. This is too good to be true, right? Please let me know I'm not actually dreaming.

I took the day off work so I could enjoy this. But right now, I'm going back to bed.

In between bouts of rage at the return of Karl Rove, both figuratively and literally, to another American election cycle (he's about as easy to get rid of, apparently, as Christopher Lee in a Hammer Dracula film—motherfucker just keeps coming back), episodes of despair at the possibility of four more years of the last eight, and fits of bitter sarcasm about the commander-in-chief of the Alaska National Guard (insert your own Marge Gunderson/Annie Get Your Gun/Sexy Librarian joke here), I've found some intellectual solace in an article by Jonathan Haidt, a psychology professor at the University of Virginia, entitled "What Makes People Vote Republican?" I haven't read the responses to it yet—they go on for pages and pages and pages—but the article itself is extremely thought-provoking—and possibly not very cheering for those of us who want Obama to win. But however depressing the article may be, it's an original (at least to me) explanation of the underlying reasons for the current flare-up of the culture wars. It's also (without mentioning her by name, or, indeed, without mentioning the election at all) one of the shrewdest explanations of the appeal of Sarah Palin.

The scene after work, about five o'clock. A couple hours later, after dark, when I came back for the caucus, the line ran halfway down the sidewalk from the school. Once I found out it was the line for the caucus and not for voting (I don't really understand this either), I took my place. A few minutes later, the line ran all the way down to street, turned right, and ran to the corner.

The wait ended up being about an hour; I'm not sure why. The caucuses were supposed to begin as soon as the voting ended, and the voting ended pretty soon after the polls closed at 7. Still, it was a mostly pleasant wait, chatting with folks from my neighborhood. Mostly what we talked about was, why are we waiting so long? Through the windows to the right of the school door we could see that the cafeteria, where the caucus was to take place, was packed with people. A few people actually came out of the cafeteria to wait outside, because it was so hot in there.

In the meantime, we were entertained by Obama supporters, mainly, especially a very high-spirited young woman who ran up and down the line in the dark, woo-hooing and handing out Quaker Oats granola bars. This was the closest I've seen the Obama campaign actually come to the kind of ward-heeling Chicago politics that they were accused of by that talk radio host who introduced John McCain last week: while they weren't actually emptying bars or drunktanks or graveyards to pad the vote, they were offering inducements in the form of granola bars. I took one because I was starving, and what the hell, I was going to vote for the guy anyway.

Meantime, a steady stream of election officials came out to explain what was going on (or what wasn't, as the case may be). The young woman next to me in line had a fancy cellphone with Internet access, and she was checking on the Ohio results periodically. Another, calmer, older Obama supporter came out with a box of blueberry muffins (I had two, further deepening my corruption), and she paused to explain how delegates were selected and apportioned. For the last few weeks, I've been struggling through Brian Greene's book about string theory, and frankly, string theory is easier to understand that the Texas Democratic Party delegate selection process. The women standing around me all seemed to be nodding as if they understood, but I was in a sugar stupor from the muffins and the granola bar and didn't follow a word of it.

It became clear pretty quickly that the vast majority of people in line were Obama supporters. At one point a woman came out looking forlornly for volunteers to be Hillary delegates, and she wasn't getting any takers as she moved down the line. Austin's a liberal town (compared to the rest of Texas, anyway), and my neighborhood, between Zilker Park, Barton Springs Road, and South Lamar, is one of the most liberal in the city. I was in line mostly with a lot of attractive white women in their 30s and 40s, soft-spoken, gently ironic, keeping in touch with their friends, partners, and families with their cells as they waited. There were a few middle-aged guys, older than the women, with salt-and-pepper beards and wearing Birkenstocks. (You can see one below.)

Finally they opened the doors (see the picture above) and we started to inch inside. Then they shut them again, and another official came out to explain that because of the overflow crowd, they were putting the line on pause momentarily to set up more tables. When the doors opened again a few minutes later, a few more people came out and said that Hillary supporters could come right in, because there wasn't that much of a wait, and a few of them streamed past us, but not many. The rest of us Obamanoids continued to creep forward.

Once inside, things moved pretty quickly. There was one table signing up Hillary folk on the left, while to the right there was a whole line of Obama tables. It looked like a mob (albeit a friendy, joking, gentle mob), and finally the forthright young woman with the fancy cellphone saw a break ahead of us, and beckoned our little group to follow her. A minute or two later, I was standing at the table, ready to sign my name as an Obama supporter. I asked the happy young guy behind the table to take my picture as I signed. Here's what I looked like, doing my civic duty:

Then I went home to watch the results on MSNBC. When I woke up this morning, I found out that despite my best efforts, my guy had lost in Texas (and Ohio and Rhode Island). So I'm feeling a little cranky and out-of-sorts this morning, though that might just be me coming down from last night's sugar high.

I dropped by Zilker School again at noon, on my lunch hour. Here's the Obama table again, from a different angle. The McCain sign, by the way, is not for John, but for a local candidate for constable. My neighborhood is the heart of liberal South Austin, so you see mostly Hillary and Obama signs, with a few Ron Pauls thrown in, just because it's Texas. McCain and Huckabee signs are pretty thin on the ground in my part of Austin.

Some members of the local media. There were trucks from two different stations here. Still no line out the door, and I didn't go into the school, but I'm expecting a crowd at 7 tonight, when the caucus is supposed to begin.

The Hillary contingent. It's a pleasant day for an election, sunny, temperature in the 50s and getting warmer. Yesterday's epic wind has died down, so all the lawn signs are safe.

Here's step one of the Texas Two-Step in today's presidential primary. It's a photo I took an hour ago, on my way to work, at my local polling place (Zilker Elementary School on Bluebonnet Lane in Austin). Since we have early voting in Texas, I voted two weeks ago at my local Randall's supermarket, where I picked up some fat-free turkey dogs, two twelve-packs of Diet Coke (with caffeine and without), and, oh yeah, voted for Obama. But I plan to be back at Zilker this evening for the second half of the two-step, and caucus for Obama. When I get back there at 7 tonight, I expect to see a line out the door. I plan to take a book and my iPod and wait for as long as it takes. It goes against my carefully constructed persona as the cynical, seen-it-all satirist, but I'll admit it: I'm excited!

More later, with photos, if possible.

PS: And here is Texas Monthly writer Mimi Swartz, in today's New York Times, writing cautiously but hopefully about the return of (dare I say it) the Texas liberal.