Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)

Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)

Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)

Wednesday 4 a.m.-ish Yankees president Randy Levine’s wife texted from Donald’s headquarters. I replied, “I was there earlier.” (P.S. Jeanine Pirro at the Hilton did a shimmy dance. Besides politics, it also showed off her behind.)

4:15 a.m. other nonsleepers. Lawyer Linda Kenney Baden (now defending ex-Patriot star and convicted murderer Aaron Hernandez) texted: “I remember October ’15, my birthday dinner in the Baccarat Hotel, you said Donald should be president.”

4:20 a.m. My Guyanese American citizen driver of 30 years, whose steering wheel wouldn’t even turn left, phoned to say that having bet on Trump, I owe him 20 bucks.

4:30 decorator Carleton Varney. “Haven’t slept. Up all night. We did it.”

How it went at my polling location

Election morning 6:15. Our polling place. A guard whispered, “I’m for Hillary. Let me direct you.” I said, “I’m for Donald.” She still directed me.

Election evening. Let nobody argue, deny or mumble I know not what I’m saying. Despite snarling CNN, Trumptown knew they’d won by 5:30. Math, calculations, candidate dislike causing voter abstention begat the numbers.

Election night began 7:30 at Francine LeFrak and Rick Friedberg’s. Barry and Stuart Slotnick, John and Margo Catsimatidis, Mark Simone, former Ms. magazine editor Elaine Lafferty, Mrs. Ed Rollins, the Ray Kellys, some Canada ambassador somebody, 30 hard-core Trumpers.

Back at the headquarters

Rudy Giuliani’s (rumor: he’ll be attorney general) former advance man Rick Friedberg organized flags, bunting, DJT cookies and chocolates, pens and dolls with Donny’s face, stuffed elephants, and First Lady Melania pins.

8 p.m. Everyone worked cells. 8:30 Francine said she saw Koch, Scorsese, Tom Freston voting that morning. “Ladies without makeup I couldn’t recognize exactly.” 8:45 somebody recalled my quotes in last Sunday’s Maureen Dowd piece. 9:15ish a scream, “The Times reports he’ll win.”

What I hear

The Park Avenue living- room talk was: “He loves this country. He wants the history books. He’ll work to be the best president America’s ever had.”

Another: “It was a vote against any smell of Obama, who now returns to his smelly pastor pal Jeremiah Wright’s preaching of ‘God damn America’ sermons.”

Another: “Be grateful we won’t see shloompy Tim Kaine anymore.”

Maybe what a friend said: “I’m for Hillary. But we’re tired of her and how she does things. Enough. We can’t take her anymore.”

Donald keeps his promises

Conundrum: How can Donny live in a smaller house?

I know Trump 40 years. Longer than his kids or first wife Ivana. Hysterics and histrionics aside, the guy’s canny. Savvy. If he can’t jump over the top, he’ll creep under the bottom. But he’ll accomplish. You don’t like him? So what? Not everybody had tea with Lincoln. The guy who’s there now has a nice haircut, good suits, shirt sleeves rolled to just the right spot when pretending to go casual. He can speechify and access a teleprompter. So? So what? What else did he do?

I know the offstage Donald. I remember that anger when I didn’t attend his father’s funeral. “You disrespected him,” he said.

I remember when his things went belly-up and he unpityingly sat behind me in a cramped seat in a junky plane.

I remember when he turned things around and flew us in his private jet to Vegas munching cookies and catered meals.

I remember ’97, when he brought his team over to create my security alarm system.

I remember his extra-special care when my husband passed on.

I remember he didn’t forget his promises. Not to me. Not to you. Not to this country he loves.

And I’ll always remember he’s one of us, kids — only from New York.