CHICAGO - As one of the country's largest cities waited anxiously, people didn't have anything else to do but talk about what might happen for one of their own on election night.
After covering the election for nearly a year, all I wanted to hear when I arrived in Chicago on Monday was what regular people had to say before they pulled the lever for a candidate.
The people of Chicago were filled with cautious optimism as they discussed their election anxiety with complete strangers.
On my way out to Hyde Park, where Obama lives, nearly everyone on the bus from downtown was intensely talking about politics.
Former Republican nominee John "McCain should never have picked Palin," said one man, who thought the Alaska governor and former vice-presidential nominee would cost McCain the election.
The Obama-friendly commuters near him agreed, and the conversation continued for the entire 35-minute ride.
I couldn't avoid political conversations. Everyone had something to say.
For black voters preparing to vote for the man who is now the first black president, there was a communal sense of both faith and pride.
"All I can do is hope and pray. Hope and pray," said one black man on the Chicago subway, who had cast his vote days before.
Eating dinner at the University of Chicago Monday night, one man working at the dining hall said, "I've been waiting for this my whole life."
In a city that would vote overwhelmingly Democratic no matter who was running, people took a special sense of accomplishment in sending one of their own to the White House.
There was a common sense of purpose in every voter I ran into on Tuesday. Each ballot cast was a deliberate attempt not be left behind by history.
On the morning of the election, I again found myself in Hyde Park.
"Help take back the White House! Help turn Indiana blue!" read the signs across the University of Chicago.
According to a student, busloads of young volunteers had been migrating across the nearby border to swing a state that hadn't voted for a Democrat since 1964.
But never have I seen anything like what I saw on election night in Grant Park.
The hundreds of thousands of supporters - as diverse as America itself - roared with every state Obama won.
"The atmosphere is not just of city or state but of national unity," said Ginnye Thomas, a Chicago public school teacher.
Despite the astounding crowds, people were in high spirits, and nothing could break their jovial mood.
As soon as the polls in California closed, the election was called for Obama.
The reaction was instantaneous.
Black women broke down crying; young people were cheering; strangers were hugging.
When I arrived in Chicago, the local speculation was that if things went badly for Obama, I should prepare for riots.
Chicago Police, who quelled the 1968 Democratic National Convention riots with brute force, were outside the park ready for anything.
But with Obama's victory, mounted police officers stood still, watching the crowd swarm the city's streets in celebration.
Horses ready to run down vigilantes were posing for pictures with exuberant Obama supporters.
The morning after the election, lamp posts were already streaming with congratulatory signs from Mayor Richard Daley.
I grabbed a coffee and tried to find a newspaper.
At the nearby newsstand, The Chicago Tribune had sold out by 8 a.m.
With newspapers sold out across the city, publishers printed thousands of extra editions to accommodate the high demand.
Everyone wanted a piece of history.
