I almost pointed out that even if Matt had gone on the trip, he probably wouldn’t have been able to be in the room while the President was getting ready, but I knew that wouldn’t make him feel better. So, I just said, “Cool.”
When the line about the Navy came, we all laughed and clapped. Ash shook her head like she was reacting to a sassy friend and said, “Whooooo!” Matt pumped his fist and screamed, “Fuck, yeah!”
When we settled down a little, Matt’s phone dinged with another text from Jimmy and he read it to us. “Yeah, Jimmy said the line was originally supposed to just stop with the aircraft carriers, but during rehearsal POTUS kept going with comparisons and Axe and Plouffe were cracking up,” Matt said. His phone dinged again. “Plouffe told him to go for it.”
I watched the air go out of Matt, watched his elation disappear as he realized he wasn’t the one with the inside knowledge of debate zingers, that he wasn’t referring to one of Obama’s top aide’s as Axe. Matt’s change of mood was so slight that Ash didn’t notice, but I did. When Romney talked about “binders full of women,” Matt did clap his hands a couple of times and say, “That’s it, you moron. Keep them coming,” but it was more subdued.
Before we went to sleep that night, I kissed Matt and said, “It went well, right? We should be happy.”
“Yeah,” Matt said. “I know.”
—
Just days before the election, Hurricane Sandy hit the East Coast. Jimmy was out of town and so Ash came to stay with us, because we didn’t know how bad it would be. Matt suggested it first (but I would have eventually), and when I agreed, he said, “I mean, I just don’t think she should be by herself in her condition.”
We were prepared with candles and food and extra batteries, but in DC the storm was just a lot of rain and some strong wind. Our power never even flickered. Ash ended up staying with us for two nights, because Jimmy went to help with the President’s visit to the Jersey Shore, which was hit hard.
Ash and I sat by the windows with cups of tea and watched the rain come down. Matt was there, but was on his phone, reading articles about the election while watching coverage on TV. I remember feeling so antsy that day, just waiting, again. Waiting for the storm to get worse, waiting for the power to go out, waiting for it to be over.
The next day, we watched as Obama landed in New Jersey, as he and Chris Christie hugged, which Jimmy had already told us was the plan. “So smart,” Matt muttered. “This could be the thing that pushes Obama over the top, the thing that secures it.”
I watched the two men hug, watched it replay a million times, and I couldn’t help but think: If a televised hug could affect an election, weren’t we all just really screwed?
—
Matt and I had decided months earlier that we’d go to Chicago for election night. Most of our friends (including Jimmy and Ash) would be there, and it felt like we should be a part of it. We flew in early that afternoon, dropped our bags at the hotel, met a few people for dinner, and then headed to McCormick Place.
I don’t remember that much about the actual night—Jimmy arranged to get us into one of the donor rooms, and for most of the time I stood next to Star Jones and drank wine, feeling slightly ashamed that I was wishing for a better celebrity sighting when there was so much more at stake. After the election was called, we were ushered into a roped-off section and stood next to Rahm Emanuel as Obama spoke. It was a blur of cheers and confetti.
But what I do remember perfectly is the next day, when Jimmy took us to campaign headquarters. “The President is going to stop by,” he said, “and you should be there.”
That place was like nothing else I’d ever seen. It was a little bit like a frat house after a party and a little bit like the dorms on the last day of school—everyone was exhausted, hungover, ecstatic about winning, and sad as they started to realize it was all over.
The campaign office was mostly one big open room with desks and tables crowded so close together that you couldn’t tell one from the other. There were a few offices around the perimeter, but most people sat in the middle, using whatever they could for a work space. The whole place was dirty and lived in—empty pizza boxes on the floor, Tabasco bottles on desks, containers of Parmesan cheese and open bags of nuts strewn everywhere. It was clear that the staffers had been eating all of their meals in the office, that they’d probably even slept there every once in a while. The air was a little stale, the way it gets when there’s too many people crowded in one area for a long time.