It’s officially been a week since the historic election of Barack Obama as President of the United States. I deliberately forbade myself from posting anything until this point since I knew I wouldn’t be able to articulate my feelings clearly or succinctly enough. With a week past, I feel better able to look back and truly analyze the historic nature of this event.

Along with hundreds of anxious viewers, I watched the results come in at the College Democrats’ election night party. When the first polls closed at 7pm in Indiana and Kentucky, CNN neglected to call the states. At 8pm, only Vermont moved toward Obama while Kentucky finally went for McCain. It felt like an eternity as the countdown ever so slowly inched toward the 9pm poll closing that would bring results from important swing states in the Midwest and South.

After that, it was all a blur. Each candidate began amassing electoral votes from his traditional support regions, with the critical states still too close to call. That is, until Pennsylvania went blue shortly after 9pm. The room was ecstatic, knowing full well that McCain’s last hope had bucked him. A message that McCain’s campaign saw “no clear path to victory” flashed across the screen. They must have foreseen what was to happen with Ohio a few minutes later.

When Obama picked up the Buckeye state, it felt as if this whole thing were wrapped up. The crowd cheered, with many of our Ohio trip buddies yelling especially loudly, their hours on the campaign trail vindicated. Everyone kept saying “it’s over” but as Democrats, no one wanted to rush this call.

I remember the room being uncharacteristically nervous as the next batch of polls closed at 10pm. Then came Virginia at about 10:55pm. With the Confederacy’s capital and the object of many of our weekend canvasses in Obama’s hands, the crowd knew that winning California would clearly put us over the line. Yet we all waited for Wolf Blitzer to make the call, eagerly counting down the minutes and then seconds until the West Coast polls shut down and history was officially made.

And then, in huge blue and red letters, “BARACK OBAMA ELECTED PRESIDENT” blanketed the screen. Blitzer’s comments were drowned out by the eruption of jubilation as the crowds took in this stunning realization. I remember jumping frantically and even tearing up; a reporter who tried to get my reaction found the Communications Director wholly incapable of articulating his feelings. I’ll never forget my friends’ reactions, which ranged from hysterical bawling to quiet realization and the many celebratory embraces. Most of my pictures from this point didn’t come out, but I’m confident I will never forget the scene in the Continental Ballroom that night.

After McCain’s concession and Obama’s acceptance speeches, many of us trekked to the White House and encountered a massive rally of fellow Obamaniacs, decked out in political gear and chanting “yes we did” and waving flags and signs despite the rainy weather. The sheer number of college students at the event struck me as uncharacteristic of my generation. Honestly, I’m not sure my age group has ever cared this much about an election’s outcome. Even some McCain supporters came out and took in the event with the revelers. After heading to a champagne and pizza party, I went to bed around 4am, and had a short but incredibly rejuvenating rest.

And now, as I sit in class daydreaming, the whole night still seems so distant, so surreal. I will never forget the events of that wonderfully historic evening, especially the emotions of those around me, many of whom never thought they would play a role in electing the first black president. But most critical are the millions of young kids who will have no memory of this event save for their parents’ exciting stories. Much like my generation cannot recall the fall of the Berlin Wall and the ideologically divided world it destroyed, today’s children will take for granted the saying-turned-fact that anyone can grow up to be president. They will grow up watching President Obama and see absolutely nothing remarkable about his position in American history.

And in so doing, it may be that those who are impacted the most from our decision last Tuesday will not even remember the event itself.

Excuse the incoherence, please — I didn’t start crying until just now. OK, I’ve stopped. We have just elected a black man to be President of the United States. And we did not elect him because of the color of his skin, we elected him because of the content of his character. Imagine what Dr. King would say today.

This night was not the happiest of my life — I don’t even feel anything right now. But it was by far the most amazing. Without a doubt, the most fascinating. The raw emotion of this night was a sight to behold, a frustration of eight years vented over the course of several hours.

The first big euphoric rise came at around 9:00 I’m guessing, when CNN called Pennsylvania. The next biggie was Ohio around a half hour later, when I nearly lost my voice for a few minutes. At this point, the race was pretty much over. Would there be any emotion left when 270 became 270, I wondered.

At 10:58, the 500 or so of us in the Continental Ballroom rose up and roared in unison as CNN called Virginia. This was especially meaningful, I’m sure, to all of you College Democrats who worked your asses off in Virginia this fall for Barack. And then came the realization that in less than two minutes, California, Washington, and Oregon would have their polls close and likely be called for Obama. The cheers steadily rose as 11:00 approached. Five seconds before CNN even displayed the graphic that Obama was our new president, people began celebrating what they knew was coming. Jumping and screaming at a volume that would normally have really irritated me didn’t faze me at all. Hugging and crying and disbelief.

And that was only the first part of the night. What does a GW student do after a presidential election? Go to the White House, of course! The five-block walk from the Marvin Center to the executive mansion was non-stop honking and yelping, and it only intensified as we got closer to the intersection of 16th and Penn. A crowd of thousands of students was already on hand, and many more were coming down Pennsylvania to join them. Some were sober, some not. A couple were wearing Obama Halloween masks. A few lit up victory cigars. Chants of “U.S.A.! U.S.A.!” and “Yes we did! Yes we did!” rang out. A conga line ripped past me as they all chanted “O-ba-ma! O-ba-ma!” An off-key rendition of God Bless America started, and I joined — equally off-key, to be sure.

As I started to make my way through the crowds to head back, I bumped into probably the only person there over 25 — this man was well past 25 — and almost instantly recognized him as Leon Wieseltier, the literary editor of my lifeblood, The New Republic. His presence surprised me given, how reluctant his support for Senator Obama was. (In May, I overheard him say that he feared Obama would be “another Jimmy Carter.”) But I guess even curmudgeons are not immune to revelry.

A small part of me feels sorry for John McCain. He once was a noble and independent man, and maybe now he can be again. I feel like we saw the old McCain in his very gracious concession speech tonight. I see I’m not the only one to think so. We can use his help in the Senate for the hard part of this ordeal — governing!

November came in nicely today, with 75 degree weather and cloudless skies blanketing the lovely District in true Indian Summer style. But it was the political climate that got me distracted today.

Taking advantage of the weather, I threw on my Obama/Biden tee and hoofed it down to the Reflecting Pool to get some reading done ahead of the academic roadblock that is Election Day. Of course I’m always one to get sidetracked by political discussions, but this time it was a realization that got me firmly off my intended goal.

Here I was, a first-time voter wearing an Obama shirt, sitting on the very same ground that had played host to the March on Washington 45 years earlier. On that spot, thousands dared to hope for a better and fairer future, knowing the odds against them. And this Tuesday, millions more will put the finishing touch on the dream they all shared on that August day. But they won’t be marching on the Mall, they’ll be lined up at the polls as far as the eye can see.

We live in an amazing country, with an uncanny ability to self-correct. If you don’t believe me, you will in a few days.