Photograph by Chris Nelson / Full gallery here
They say first impressions are everything, but my first impression of Barack Obama’s speech last night wasn’t much. I was slightly dismayed at how let down I was by “the once-in-a-generation experience.” Covering the convention should have given me the ultimate insight into Obamamania. For most of the time, I was convinced that, aside from a few moments (the Roll Call vote, Bill’s speech, and hearing Obama utter the words “I accept your nomination for president”), it would all be a waste.
But at an afterparty last night, something pulled my head out of the journalistic, observational fog. I had spent the week trapped in a political convention bubble, enveloped by a non-stop barrage of punditry. At the “Yes We Can” Celebration party thrown by Perennial, the same management company behind the epic Wyclef Jean event earlier in the week, I watched a set by the Black Eyed Peas, who managed to penetrate my persistent cynicism with their raw energy and gusto.
Toward the end of the evening, I had gotten separated from the rest of the group, and decided to walk outside to see if there were any interesting conversations to be had. I struck up one with two African-American men, who didn’t know each other, but both of whom, by coincidence, were from Los Angeles. As we chatted, a Kenyan man wearing a dapper suit approached looking for a light and joined in on our chat. He had flown all the way from Kenya just to see Obama’s acceptance speech. His tribe in Kenya neighbors that of Obama’s father.
