The afternoon of the now infamous debate, I posted a Thread. (Because why are you still Xeeting on Xitter? Gross.) “Biggest consideration on whether to watch the debate tonight is my fear that it will ratchet up my anxiety to puking level,” I wrote. To illustrate the point, I added a cute gif of America Ferrera as Ugly Betty dry heaving. And, because Threads, there was but one interaction: a Florida high school pal responding, “Same.” Wendy gets it.

Ever since Hillary Clinton lost the 2016 election — like an adult actually capable of putting the country ahead of her ego — to the deplorable Donald Trump, it’s felt as though human existence has been covered in a surreal sheen. These are painfully interesting times.

Trump’s presidency on its own, rampant with chaos, corruption, and cruelty, delivered sinister twists daily. And then Covid arrived, as though reality felt its ratings were down and needed to jump the shark. Then China fully tightened its grip on Hong Kong, moving from “One Country, Two Systems” to “Shut Up or Go to Prison,” with barely a peep from the U.S.

Joe Biden, blessedly, took the White House back to some sense of normalcy, and most of us could feel our muscles unclenching. So why not a peculiar jolt of Mpox? That was the anxious appetizer ahead of Putin’s barbaric invasion of Ukraine. Overturning decades of precedent guaranteeing a right to reproductive choice added a zip of SCOTUS spice. The Gods of Chaos, apparently still hungry, added Hamas’s villainous invasion of Israel, followed by Benjamin Netanyahu’s unbelievably cruel counterattacks in Gaza. George Floyd. Jan. 6. Neo-Nazis. It’s too much!

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Sure, every era has its calamities. Obviously, 1935 to 1945 would like a word. But, dang, how I long for the days of President Obama in a tan suit making headlines.

As the hour of debate approached, it was akin to sitting in a movie theater getting ready to watch an unsettling sequel. “Dear God, how are we back here?!” my psyche screamed. “Don’t worry psyche, we won’t watch,” was my comforting response. My husband had other ideas. “C’mon, just the first 10 minutes,” he implored. I’m a softy and he’s in sales, so we fired up the debate.

I held out hope that Biden would bring his “C’mon, Man” game, full of Scranton hominess and Delaware diplomacy. Not many minutes into the debate, I played my veto card. I couldn’t take it. I’m not usually one to shy away from news, but this was disastrously unsettling. Honestly, I did think I might puke. Trump looked better, even if the stage was buried in his bullshit. All I could see was the MAGA campaign turning every exposed Biden frailty and lost train of thought into election ads.

Would our little respite of national normalcy turn out to be not a step back to better times, but merely a sad little last hurrah before it all goes back to MAGAt-infested rot?

The optimist in me has navigated the ongoing chaos by hunting for opportunity. Some of that has panned out. Writing for Metro Weekly after a 10-year hiatus comes to mind. While I’d previously been more of an immovable curmudgeon, the chaos has taught me that I need to embrace change, harness fear, adapt, and find the opportunity in any situation.

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With that in mind, perhaps Biden’s early summer showing on the debate stage was a blessing. If he’d done a fair job in June, saving what the world just witnessed till September, it’s a fair guess that our future would be doomed. Trump’s despotic fantasies and Project 2025’s federal government purge would secure our dire destiny.

Thanks to timing, however, we still have a fighting chance to get this juncture of human history right.

I am so thankful to Biden. He had a job to do, and he’s done it better than nearly anyone could’ve imagined. He’s pulled America’s collective ass out of the fire, much as Obama did when he guided us out of the worst economic calamity in nearly a century.

Now Biden has one more job to do. He must get the Democratic Party lined up for its best possible showing in November. He alone has the power and persuasiveness to turn his debate performance into a win, by immediately offering to step down at the end his incredibly successful term and wholeheartedly blessing his successor to take on Trump in November. Biden alone has the power to offer that gift of unity.

Some pundits point to precedent, warning that this is a risky maneuver. It’s charming that in this era anyone might still think precedent isn’t already dead and buried. These are radical times, forcing us into radical choices.

Radical, but strategic.

Once I made peace with joining those who believe Biden should seize this opportunity by stepping down, I turned to the camp calling for Gov. Gavin Newsom to top our ticket, with Speaker Hakeem Jeffries as his running mate. California and New York are a good combination, politically speaking. And Newsom couldn’t keep Vice President Kamala Harris, as two Californians at the top would alienate too many voters. Instead, Harris could be our next attorney general. Or maybe a Supreme Court justice, considering the next Democratic president has a more than solid argument for expanding the court. Ya got greedy, Mitch.

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But it’s not that easy.

I’ve long been a big fan of Kamala Harris. Plenty of mornings, my neighbors spot me getting my steps in sporting my “Kamala Harris for the People” T-shirt. In the last election, my dream ticket was Harris joined by Pete Buttigieg running for veep. Very aspirational.

This year, however, Harris at the top of the ticket makes practical sense. The more I read about rules regarding campaign cash and state-level primary protocols, the more I believe Harris will simply have to knock it out of the park. A Midwestern, center-left running mate could help her do that.

While Buttigieg has those credentials and has proven routinely he can hold his own against right-wing knuckleheads, I fall back on strategy. Former Rep. Tim Ryan of Ohio would better fill the bill. Tackling America’s abundant racism and misogyny will be hard enough without having to tackle its homophobia simultaneously.

There is a 1984-inspired Trump meme making the rounds. He glowers Big Brother-style over George Orwell’s totalitarian text: “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.” While this absolutely applies to MAGA and Trump’s apparent addiction to nonstop lying, I hope for it to be contained there.

Accordingly, I can’t pretend that I did not hear what I heard, that I did not see what I saw. Biden, for all his strengths, is not the Democrats’ best option for holding the country together and moving us forward. He may deserve to be the nominee, but this has nothing to do with what anyone is owed. It’s seizing the optimal opportunity. It’s about adapting or dying.

Will O’Bryan is a former Metro Weekly managing editor. He is online at www.LifeInFlights.com.