On Election night eight years ago, I was at a trade association poll watching party at about this time. These were the days when news outlets were still calling results based on exit polls.

I stood in a large crowd, one of the lone Democrats, when Pennsylvania was called for Gore. You could hear the collective groan as the news popped up on screen after screen throughout the
room.

My heart started racing. It took everything I had not to let out a loud “Woot!” but I was surrounded by clients and I was new to my job.

With Pennsylvania over, the party started dying down which gave me the opening I wanted to head over to the party I REALLY wanted to attend–the Democratic Party party at the Mayflower Hotel.

I jumped in my car, raced through downtown DC wanting to be among my people–old friends to hug and new friends to high five. Throwing all caution to the wind, I pulled into the valet, threw the bell captain my keys and ran into the ballroom. And I was so confused.

It was quiet.

Had everyone cheered too loudly and lost their voice? Were they worn out from jumping up and down and just taking a rest?

No. The news outlets realized they had prematurely called the race. In the time it took me to get across town, the whole election had turned around. We stood in the ballroom for hours and continued to hug, but the hugs were not to celebrate they were to console.

It would be weeks before we all knew the “official” outcome of the race–weeks before I gave up.

Tonight I am far more hopeful for a Democratic win, but I’m far more cynical too.

I hope the main stream media doesn’t screw it up again.