Even in L.A., even IRL, the rising Trump tide was palpable.
Ignorance is not bliss. Trust me.
Yesterday this article was supposed to be something different. A fun piece about what it would be like to tune out from an event that had seized mine and the world’s attention for nearly a year — on the night of the grand finale. All the polls had Hillary Clinton winning handily; I figured it’d be over by 9 p.m., proving my point that paying attention to this election had been a waste of time.
I made a plan to turn off the alerts on my phone and spend the day in the least political way possible — while getting my only information about election returns from people I spoke to face-to-face. By about 7 p.m., the impending doom had begun to unfold and my “experiment” had turned into my personal and all-too-visceral Frankenstein. To think, that just 10 hours earlier, I was at the ballot box and primed for a “tremendous” day — disconnected.