While all you eagle eyes were following the trends of the nation, I spent the beginning of my election night at the party of the candidate I supported for governor of New York–Tom Leighton, of the Marijuana Reform Party. Mr. Leighton, thin, bespectacled, grey-ponytailed, and well-spoken. He has the air of permanent grad student at some large liberal university, except that he also has a sense of humor.

The party was held in a room at the Chelsea Hotel, New York’s White House of Weird for decades. One celebrant asked if he could smoke tobacco. Sure, the candidate said, anything but cigars. But that’s all I have, the smoker complained. I can’t ask people to put up with cigar smoke, Mr. Leighton said. What a country!

One of the founders of the Marijuana Reform Party was not present. He was a firefighter who died in Tower One. A fire hat with his picture in the brim sat on the mantel. What a country.