Night of Three Syllabls

After the election results have come in, I wander over to Eaton Center, Toronto's downsized attempt to mimic Times Square. People have already gathered; loud music, bad techno music, is playing. People have booze, a slight smell of marijuana in the air. Some have got American and Canadian flags, and they are dashing around the edges of the crowd. A shorter bearded man has a megaphone. "O-bam-a!" he yells, "O-bam-a" replies the crowd. "Yes we can!" he chants, syncopating now. "Yes we can" they (we?) chant back in time with the music. It goes on like this for the next hour, more people arriving and other drifting away. Champagne is sprayed. Many people with cameras are there; I grab their attention and make them take a picture of me with my sticker. I want to be there when they show people years later and say, see, this is what this was like when Obama became president.

The street people gathered at the edges too, looking on in silence, maybe in apathy. It's impossible to tell with them. As I am leaving the gathering with Dan, a friend from New Zealand, we stop to buy food and immediately there's a man at my shoulder, asking for a hot dog. An awkward moment, but I buy him one and wish him good night. I feel justified: it's a gift, not a handout. And it's a good night for giving gifts.