Election Day Drinking Strategies

A true story. On one of our quadrennial election days—to protect the innocent and nonpartisan I shall refrain from identifying the year—I was feeling most hopeful. I slipped out of work at lunch and purchased an expensive bottle of single-malt Scottish whisky (Islay provenance). Friends gathered around a television and we settled back, victory bottle at the ready. The night turned ugly for our team, and as this reality began to emerge, we plucked that bottle from the coffee table and poured out generous glasses to settle our nerves. The celebratory bottle became, a few hours later, a smoky toast over which we eulogized a campaign.

I mention this because elections are unsettling, nerve-jangling affairs, and you need to enter them with a battle plan. The plan should function, as did my bottle of scotch, in multiple scenarios. Most importantly, always plan for the worst, for dark times are the most desperate.

The Slow Wind-Up

In 2020, our index fingers have been rubbed raw from hitting refresh on the polling averages at FiveThirtyEight.com. Much of the day hangs in suspense—Election Day has arrived, yet no news happens until the polls close. To fill the day, you will err by consulting social media, where wild rumors spread like grease fires. Some guy in Columbus will swear he saw a van with MAGA and/or antifa stickers dumping ballots in the river. It will be retweeted nine million times. By the late afternoon, a cold slick of flop sweat will cling to the back of your neck. You will certainly crave a stiff drink or three to steady your nerves. This is the first pivotal moment of the night and here rookies often blunder.

Start with that stiff drink
Look, it’s going to be a long night. You’ve got to get ahold of yourself. Before the results start coming in (7pm Eastern/4p Pacific), put some soothing music on, retire to a comforting room, with other humans if they’re handy, and have a civilizing, centering moment to start the night. Pour yourself a double IPA or martini, and chat about your day. It’s cocktail time and you’re there to unwind. That’s it, relax.

Maintenance Booze
Now it’s time to turn on the TV and boot up your favorite election tracking site. Bolts of electricity will begin shooting through your system, but you’ve managed their severity with the stiff drink. To temper the rising anxiety—with 1% reporting my candidate is trailing by 30 points!!!—you’re going to have to get an IV drip of booze going. Put away the martinis and IPAs—now you want something flavorful but low-alcohol like Guinness to keep you going. With each mouthful you can experience a little burst of happy distraction without losing your edge. Why is Florida STILL only reporting only 1%? It’s 2000 all over again isn’t it?!!

Pace yourself.

Surviving Inconclusive Results

Once 7/4pm rolls around, a new tranche of states closes every half hour. (Half hour? Yes, seriously. Why, Arkansas, why?) The cable networks live for this night because nothing delivers the rolling drama like an election. Networks have developed garish graphics and scored cornball music to accompany each state in which their models project a winner. Throughout the night you will hear this music (and grow to despise it), and it will signal a new explosion of pure adrenaline. Oh my @%#$& God, they called Vermont! VERMONT!!!

Look, we already know how forty of the states will go. Settle down. Have another Guinness.

Inkling Booze
This is our lovely Covid election, so a hundred million people have already voted. That means in states like Pennsylvania, volunteers are swimming in seas of ballots, slowly checking signatures, unsealing them, flattening them, and loading them into machines for counting. Results will be delayed. Nevertheless, you will be studying return data to see what the turnout in Dane County, WI looks like, scrutinizing the totals for patterns and clues. Some young Ph.D. will be breathlessly interpreting fragmentary results on TV. Third-generation Cubans aren’t turning out in Tampa!!! At a certain point, you’ll begin to have an inkling about how the election is going. This is another pivotal moment.

If you fear impending defeat, you’ll have the impulse to turn to the hard stuff. It offers succor—or oblivion—in its sharp bite. If you sense victory, conversely, you’re liable to start drinking faster, more jubilantly, probably turning to a specialty beer or glass of Pinot in your unearned confidence.

Beware.

This year is going to be weird. Because of early balloting, votes are going to arrive in blocs. Panicked Dems voted immediately, weeks ago. When their ballots go on the board, it will inject a false sense of momentum into the numbers. Republicans coolly waited until Election Day, eschewing the mail. Their results will arrive separately, before or after the Dem batches, depending on the state. States count these clumps of ballots in different order (North Carolina has already started counting early ballots, by law Pennsylvania had to wait until today). Your inkling may well be wrong, fools-gold amid the sands. Once you’ve committed yourself with those six desperation martinis or speedy IPAs, you will almost certainly find the results plunged back into confusion—and then it will be too late. You wouldn’t be the first one to pass out in confusion too early, but no one wants the night to end that way.

Election Week

Honestly, we probably won’t know who won for days. Unless one of the candidates scores an unexpected landslide, we’ll wake up tomorrow morning (eventually) to news of incremental new counts in key states. More inconclusion.

As your Tuesday Night self watches the returns tonight, spare a thought for Wednesday Morning you. As much as you may want this damn thing to be over, there’s a really good chance it won’t be. So when Wednesday arrives, consider how you want to feel. Horribly hung-over is no way to spend morning two of a four-day ordeal.

After a night of drinking, you might not make the most rational choices in the wee hours, but it might make sense to shift to water. This could be a long one, and, after all, you may need to start drinking again tomorrow. Consider all your options.

Good luck folks, and in all seriousness, be safe.