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The cheers came down the street like a wave of energy that was ready to demolish anything that stood in its way.
Hundreds of people were streaming from their homes, bars, coffee shops and other nooks around Brooklyn to fill the streets to dance and yell and cheer the news that had just come across.
No matter your political persuasion (be it as retarded as it may) you have to admit that watching several hundred people packed into one city block dancing, and writhing through the night as they ride the high and mighty wave of this election is pretty powerful stuff.
I only regret that I did not have a camera. Despite their yelling, their chanting and wild yells into the darkness, you never once felt like things were going to turn ugly.
These were not the dim Philly fans who trashed their own town after winning the world series. These people were genuinely elated and could not contain themsleves every time a car would drive by honking or someone would start up once again chanting "Yes we can." They were happy and that feeling would not wear off and take them to bed until dawn when the first papers would hit the street and people knew it was not a dream.
Brooklyn had people shooting off roman candles and fountains that we usually let the toddlers play with at the Fourth of July, but with each five-foot-tall burst of sparks and crackles the crowd would let out a wild primal cheer announcing they had finally won. For once, and possibly the last, time in their lives they felt like they walked away ahead in this game.