Democrats celebrate in New York City

Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo! DEMOCRATS! In Manhattan’s Westbury tavern, the gang cheered, the gang roared. Crowded across the again of the cosy basic midtown pub, a motley bunch of political tragics have been, after weeks of pressure, pouring out their reduction and pouring into their celebration. Half a dozen in fits, the remainder funky workplace dress-down, some aged T-shirted outdated Greenwich village vets: this was the watch social gathering for the NYC New Liberals — together with me, a French journalist and a Japanese TV crew.

“Do not sit at house alone feeling dissatisfied,” the invite had stated. “Come out and be dissatisfied collectively.” They have been anticipating they might get a shellacking; I anticipated that too, and so, I presume, did the Japanese TV crew. Certainly, I would timed my circuit to intersect with them for the time being of their despair, having began at a Republican shindig in Newark, the place I would hoped to get a dose of provincial snottiness earlier than the triumphalism began, and hitting Manhattan simply in time for some primo progressive despair. Turned out it was a Younger Republican social gathering, and that was too bizarre even for me, so I hightailed it.

By the point I made it into Manhattan, they have been banging the pub’s darkish wooden panelling with their palms every time there was an announcement, virtually all of which have been good for them (in not being horrible). The group on the entrance of the bar have been watching an ice hockey match, and so they requested the New Libs to maintain the noise down — they could not consider individuals pounding one another to bloody pulp on the ice. It was all woody and cosy — polish and leadlight lamps, mirrors behind the gleaming spirits on cabinets, the bartender, palms palms down on the bar, holding court docket, solely lacking waistcoat and handlebar moustache. Manhattan taverns are actually one among life’s nice pleasures.