E. E. Lippincott (NYC)

I threw an election night cocktail party. I drew an "X" on my face to represent the "X" the New York City voting machines make when you push the button next to the candidate you want to vote for. Someone later told me that it looked like I was wearing a swastika.

At seven, people began arriving every few minutes. The drink du noir was cosmopolitans, and I made them very stiff, which helped to heighten the excitement of the assortment of people who were gathering around the television, a lot of them media people. We watched a map of the country gradually being colored in as each state was "gotten" by either Democrat Gore or Republican Bush.

"I think I should not be out amongst people I don't know tonight," said my roommate, who is greatly discouraged by American government right now. He voted Libertarian.

"I don't vote. I haven't ever voted in my life," said a thin man with a cowboy hat and a beard.

A lot of people had voted for Nader. They had a resigned look about them.

A few hours and a few cocktails later, Hillary Clinton was New York's new senator. There was some talk about whether people found her attractive or not. But we still didn't have a president. Florida began looming large. The news people quipped that Bush's family had been joking that it would be a cold thanksgiving at their house of Bush didn't win his brother's state.

The news people said a lot of stupid things and we, the media savvy crowd that we were, decided to focus on these quips during the intervals between states being colored either red or blue on the television screen.

Then Gore "took" Florida and it was a big moment in my small Queens apartment.

The door buzzed and the guy who arrived straight from his car said
"I just heard on the radio that Gore took Florida."

Then Gore lost Florida. Then things got confusing. I continued to deal out cosmopolitans. The night wearied on and the smug pride we all felt about having done our deed at the various polling stations across the city where they are still using machines from 1962, became somewhat diluted.

There were several brave attempts to discuss the electoral college when it seemed possible that Gore would win the popular vote but not the election, but none of us knew what we were talking about.

Eventually some people left, without a new president. I turned off the volume on the television and put on Peggy Lee songs. We danced for a little while and talked of things unrelated to politics.

At around 3 a.m. I made my final, dooming cosmopolitan.

"You really don't need to make it so stiff," said a friend. But I did. I was drinking for my country.