On the night of Monday, November 7th, I could not sleep. I had stayed up with my roommates to watch the SNL Election Special, and so I could wish my sister a happy birthday at precisely midnight. After completing both of these tasks, I was still restless and wide awake. I read. I tossed and turned. I finally fell into a fitful sleep that lasted about two hours.

A sense of dread had accompanied the approaching of Tuesday. A heavy weight had seemingly settled on my countenance and shoulders as we entered the homeward stretch towards election day. I was privileged to attend many campaign events over those last few weeks of the election cycle. I had a sense Pennsylvania would go red, but I dare not hope for much more than that. I was just hoping and praying for a retained senate majority. That was the most I could possibly expect.

But when I awoke on Tuesday after my paltry two hours of sleep, I did not feel defeated. I could not describe what exactly it was I felt, but it was not bad. I just chalked it up to resignation, but looking back I’m not so sure that was an accurate diagnosis. My first class of the day was comparative politics, which quickly devolved into a comparison of the two presidential candidates. The professor did his best to keep the conversation nonpartisan, but it was clear that nearly everyone in the class was voting for former Secretary Clinton. My next class unfolded in a very similar manner. At my internship, no one did any work. Our boss just sat with us and livestreamed the latest polls. Everyone was confident of a Clinton victory. I commented that I thought Pennsylvania would go red. Everyone was incredulous. I should have felt discouraged and disheartened after hearing all the polling data, but I didn’t. I felt bad because I was not concerned or freaking out. Had I just given up? Was I that numb?

My friends and I had made plans to spend election night at the new Trump hotel on Pennsylvania Avenue, so we got ready and made our way there around 6:00. The venue was nearly full, but we managed to get inside. My friend, Joe, was advised not to unfurl his American flag inside lest it be viewed as an act of protest by security. We assume the guard thought he intended to fly it upside down or something like that.

A friend commented that they were worried Georgia would go blue. I openly balked at the mere idea such a thing could happen, but in my mind I momentarily was shaken. My own state could not go blue for such a pivotal election. We crowded around the televisions by the bar and waited for the first closings. The hotel had two televisions showing Fox, one tuned into CNN and one broadcasting ABC.

When the first polls closed, Trump took an early lead, 19-3. That was to be expected as most of the first states to close are part of the Bible Belt. Georgia was deemed too early to call. That did not sit well with me, but I was starting to get excited and hopeful. I tried to quell such feelings so as not to have my hopes dashed.

For the next hour or so, it became extremely difficult not to get my hopes up. I was trying to be realistic and not to jinx anything, but the atmosphere in the hotel was positively electric. Everyone was jovial and cheering. My friends were starting to get excited as well.

Then Florida’s results started coming in, and everyone sobered up. This would be the ultimate test. Megyn Kelly had reminded Trump supporters that winning Florida was central to every possible path he had to the presidency. It looked as if Clinton had an early lead in the infamous swing state, and suddenly the mood felt solemn. I repeated my feeling about Pennsylvania. Everyone scoffed. What would Pennsylvania matter if we still lost Florida? It wouldn’t. Georgia was still too early to call.

I prayed a lot. I bounced in my boots. I voiced how hungry and restless I felt. It seemed as though there was an eternity until the next polls would close. All we cared about was Florida. Trump appeared to be behind in other key states like North Carolina and Ohio despite earlier leads.

Then something started happening. Slowly but surely, the margins by which he was behind started thinning dramatically. He was gaining. The room was suddenly revitalized. People started cheering and celebrating. Chants of “USA! USA!” erupted around the hotel. North Carolina was officially called for the Trump campaign. Everyone went wild with unbridled joy and excitement. Florida was nearly tied now, and the panhandle still had yet to report. Fox commentators were beginning to express disbelief but realization that a Trump win was actually possible. Kellyanne Conway’s assurity that had previously been dismissed out of hand was finally starting to make sense.

We became convinced that it was only a matter of time before Florida was called in our favor. The adults around me were overjoyed. My friends and I started talking about running to the White House in celebration. My roommate reminded us not to jinx anything, but the positivity had already taken root. Our bounces were lighter. Our smiles were more genuine. A reporter came over and interviewed us. She asked about how it felt to be a young, female Republican during such a contentious election. I gave sincere and heartfelt answers. Then the reporter continued to make her way around the room.

After a few minutes, we started speculating possible cabinet appointments. People around us were excitedly singing patriotic anthems. Knowing us to be the youngest in the room, many of the adults kept checking on my friends and me. When Florida was called red, the room nearly burst with screams and applause. Everyone was thrilled. Then we entered a waiting period more torturous than the one before. Now we knew we stood a chance, but we still had to wait for results to be called. The commentators and pundits had no idea what was happening. It was as if no one had anticipated this at all. Georgia was eventually called. Still, we waited. My friends and I eventually sat on the floor. We’d been standing and bouncing for nearly six hours. We were exhausted and hungry and deliriously excited. Then we got news that classmates and others had already rushed to the White House to protest the results that were still being counted.

I would not be swayed. I knew I was going to the White House when the election was called no matter what. My friends took some convincing, but they eventually agreed. It became apparent that Trump was ahead in Michigan. That would be enough for us to win. But they would not officially call it. Pennsylvania had been closed for some time, but it was still early in the counting and it looked as though Hillary was ahead. I could not shake my good feeling about Pennsylvania.

We waited. And waited. And then we waited some more. People began calling out to the TV as if Megyn Kelly would somehow hear them and mercifully announce the final results. Miraculously, he began to gain in Pennsylvania, and it became obvious he would win there, too. But it was not officially called. Either Pennsylvania or Michigan would deliver the decisive blow, but neither were being called. Fox analysts explained that they may not be called until much later on Wednesday. Podesta addressed the Clinton crowd and told them to go home. My friends and I were excited but also concerned. We wanted it to be over. The Trump hotel turned the TVs off, clearly heeding Podesta’s words. We bid our new friends goodbye, said some joking departing words to the reporter about how hungry we were and headed to the White House.

As we were walking, my phone sent me an alert. The election had officially been called. Pennsylvania had done it. Trump had won. I called out the message to my friends. A woman walking by us on the sidewalk made an animatedly sad face. A guy behind us took out his phone and made an angry and incredulous phone call. We continued on towards the White House.

Protests were in full swing when we arrived. People were chanting and screaming and putting on quite a show for the cameras. When the cameras would move, so would the mob. My friends and I spotted some fellow Republican friends and stood off to the side with them. We compared stories of the night and discussed the coming administration. We took some pictures and decided it was time to finally eat something. As we were leaving, we each stopped to thank the Secret Service agents who were standing along the street. They nodded their thanks for our appreciation.