6:20 pm-6:50 pm: Matt Gonzalez for Mayor

Location: Campaign Headquarters/Duboce and Mission

"Gonzalez! Gonzalez! Gonzalez!" I scream at the top of my lungs, waving a large "Matt Gonzalez" sign while standing inside a packed party tent. I'm dressed in my Mission-hipster uniform, which includes a T-shirt and a stocking cap. Instead of waiting in the long entrance line, I sneaked around the side and sweet talked two people staffing a "No Entrance" portal into allowing me to jump the queue and go in right through the kitchen.

There's a jubilant, festive mood of new optimism. Ethnic folksingers play guitars. Wine flows freely. An outrageous food spread is there to be had by all. This is clearly a celebration. If it weren't election night, it would be a darn good party I'd go to anyway.

"It's going to be a fun night," proclaims a woman wearing Mickey Mouse ears and bondage wear. "I think Matt Gonzalez is a leader," she expounds. "Newsom isn't really a leader, and America hasn't been producing leaders lately."

"I agree!" I shout before leaving. My hour has come to a close. I must now go across town and support Gavin Newsom.

7:13 pm-8:02 pm: Gavin Newsom for Mayor

Location: The Fillmore

"Newsom! Newsom! Newsom!" I scream at the top of my lungs while waving a large "Newsom" sign inside the subdued Fillmore ballroom. My shouting causes a few people to turn around with a frightened look. I'm now wearing a suit jacket and tie. While speeding across town, I've metamorphosed into a Newsom supporter. Though I attempted to dress up, I still stand out like a sore thumb with herpes.

The ballroom is decorated with massive amounts of red, white and blue balloons dispersed neatly throughout the room. People generally seem neither overly happy nor especially sad; the attitude is more like, "Let's get on with this -- I have to work tomorrow." Though it's an open bar, most people seem to be nursing just one beer.

As the DJ spins a mix of inoffensive late-'80s hip-hop, I go over to indulge in some free food, which I expect to be delicious, given that Newsom is in the restaurant business. I'm still feeling violated by the large doorman who thoroughly patted me down to the point where I thought I could maybe press charges. Yes, security is tight here, with a large presence of police throughout the building. All bags are being searched. There are three security checkpoints, the last of which is at the top of the stairs, staffed by a large man in a tuxedo shirt and tie. Apparently, Gordon Getty even had trouble getting in. He reportedly said to the doorman, "I'm a voter. Can you please let me in?" but was told to go to the back of the line.

I finally find the food table. Is this some kind of joke? The only food available is chips, on a table decorated with numerous cloves of garlic as ornaments. There's a choice of several kinds of salsas, however, served by caterers adorned in matching purple aprons.

You'd think that if Newsom outspent Gonzalez in campaign funding 10 to 1, his people could at least provide some chicken wings.

"Do you support Newsom?" I ask the bartender. "No!" he snaps, quickly walking away.

"Newsom has class, a lot of class," explains a blond woman named Patty, who looks much older than, perhaps, she would like to appear to be. She keeps grabbing my arm. "He has that Midwestern sensibility, like he'd help you fix a tire."

Then Patty slightly invades my personal space, again grabbing my arm, and she insists I accompany her to the bar. She mentions she was once a Chicago Bears cheerleader. Though I could use a sugar mommy, I politely decline, being that my hour is almost up. I have to go back and support Matt Gonzalez.

8:25 pm-9:19 pm: Matt Gonzalez for Mayor

"Gonzalez! Gonzalez! Gonzalez!" I once again scream, waving a sign. I've ditched the suit jacket and tie and switched back to my Mission look. Immediately, starved by the lack of proper food at theNewsom party, I eat some egg rolls.

"I went to college with Matt," a tall, curly-haired guy tells me. "No matter what, I think it's a f**ing victory anyway. The Greens are back, and they'll have this huge block of power."

'It's a win-win situation!" I say enthusiastically as I watch a crazy woman with caked-on makeup and wearing a gold hat dancing in a corner to a song only she can hear. People here are passionately talking about political ideology; someone quotes Cesar Chavez in Spanish -- which I can't understand, unfortunately. (Note to self: Reenroll in classes at Casa Hispana.)

"Go, Matt!" I quickly scream. My time has once again run out. I must zip back and support Gavin.

9:30 pm-10:42 pm: Gavin Newsom for Mayor

"Newsom! Newsom! Newsom!" I once again scream loudly. More startled people turn around.

"Gavin! Gavin! Gavin!" people start chanting in an orderly fashion as I note that the name isn't really one conducive to a good chanting. The large-screen TV then flashes a news program, which includes a glimpse of the Gonzalez headquarters, eliciting booing and people making the thumbs-down sign.

"We slammed him hard," states an overgrown frat man with a neat blue sweater. "Nice guy, but he's crazy!"

Across the room, Patty winks at me and blows me a kiss (mental note to self: "Must avoid her!"). Everyone grows silent as the TV news breaks in and announces, "Gavin Newsom is your new mayor!" Supporters respond with more orderly cheering, shouts of "Yeah!" and more orderly, but not passionate, chanting of "Gavin! Gavin! Gavin!"

When the newscast cuts to the Newsom headquarters, I strategically place myself in front of the TV camera in order to see myself on the news waving a "Newsom" sign. Patty is now all over some other much younger guy. The DJ spins the dance classic "Celebrate Good Times." Strangely, people seem happy but not overjoyed; somehow, they appear neutral -- demonstrating something more like an I-told-you-so attitude. The stage is suddenly filled with a multiethnic mix of people, and instrumental victory rock, reminiscent of the "Rocky" theme, blares from the sound system.

Our new mayor takes the stage accompanied by his wife, a lingerie model turned assistant DA -- how do you make that jump? -- and the new Democratic Wonder Boy delivers an inspiring speech that begins with "Change is on its way!"

At 10:37 pm, the speech concludes. After a smattering of light confetti and a sound-system playing of U2's "Beautiful Day," the place -- emblematic of our new in-bed-by-11 San Francisco -- starts clearing out.

While I'm going to the bar one last time, my "Matt Gonzalez" campaign sign accidentally falls out of my jacket pocket -- or maybe I simply took it out to see what would happen. A drunk guy threatens to beat me up, but his female friend jumps in.

"I'm Gavin Newsom's cousin," she states, showing me her ID to prove that she is in fact GavinNewsom's first cousin.

"Do you want to go to a really good party?" I ask Gavin Newsom's first cousin.

11:03 pm-12:20 am: Matt Gonzalez for Mayor

I take Gavin Newsom's first cousin, her friend and the drunk guy to Gonzalez's headquarters. At least she has enough sense to know that even though she is not a Green Party member, there is a much, much better party going on. I whip off my tie and head toward the Mission. Yes, I'm takingGavin Newsom's first cousin to the dark side!

"My cousin would kill me if he finds out," proclaims Gavin Newsom's first cousin as she relays myriad stories about family gatherings with Gavin and the Gettys.

The Gonzalez supporters are still at it. A punk industrial band is now playing onstage. The Tamale Lady is here. The open bar has been drunk nearly dry. Gonzalez casually mingles among his beloved supporters -- the atmosphere is sentimental, like the last night of summer camp.

Just shortly after arriving, Gavin Newsom's first cousin asks to go back to my car so she can put on more makeup. She then tries to tear down a poster depicting Bush, Schwarzenegger and her first cousin that reads "The Holy Untrinity!"

"Will you mention my name in your article?" asks Gavin Newsom's first cousin when we return to Gonzalez headquarters. "I want to be like Paris Hilton!"

12:28 am-2 am: Doc's Clock

When it's all over, we (Gavin Newsom's first cousin, her friend and myself) retreat to Doc's Clock on Mission Street with a gaggle of Gonzalez supporters. Fortunately, we have ditched the drunk guy. In the center of the bar, a flock of patrons surround a man playing guitar. Believe it or not, it's Jonathan Richman, of Modern Lovers and "Something about Mary" fame. He holds court, singing songs about love for the die-hard Gonzalez supporters. I'm told, as I sip my Guinness, that he and Gonzalez are good friends.

As I listen to a music icon croon in this tiny bar, I get vaguely sentimental. Here we are, listening to Jonathan Richman, with Matt Gonzalez mingling among us. This is what all bars would have been like if Gonzalez had won. I'm sure Newsom isn't hanging out at Chi-Chi's, along with Kenny G, for all his supporters with blended drinks to admire.

Gavin Newsom's first cousin is eager to meet her relative's rival. She approaches the approachable Gonzalez and flaunts the fact that she is Gavin Newsom's first cousin.

"I now have the biggest crush on Matt Gonzalez," she states directly afterward. "Oh, my god, I so want to make out with Matt Gonzalez."

IN CASE YOU NEED MORE OF THE NEWSOM CLAN, THIS VIDEO POSES THE QUESTION: JOANNA NEWSOM or BABY GARGLE?