Philadelphia is under siege. During my five-block walk home I must have passed 15 television trucks, most of them accompanied by well-lit journalists doing impromptu standup reports from the street. People were tripping over wires trying to walk from Walnut Street to Pine. While I walked, a truck drove by, adorned with Hillary signs and honking. People could be heard yelling “Obama” back at the truck as it drove away.

Earlier a coworker of mine texted me that he’d just shook Obama’s hand and then watched him eat a cheesesteak at Pat’s in South Philly. Broad Street is currently overrun by security and press waiting for the Clinton victory celebration, which is planned for later tonight.

While I ate lunch at a small center city coffee shop, the two young guys sitting next to me were talking about primary turnout. The young woman in front of me wore an Obama t-shirt. As I type, someone is driving by blaring one of Obama’s speeches on a loudspeaker.

There’s no escaping the energy.

This is the way politics are supposed to feel.

-c