I dance with anyone who’ll dance. With strangers in Union Square on Election Night. With friends on Inauguration night, in a great apartment on Central Park West. As the Obamas danced on TV, the guests danced in two big rooms. I danced with the host, and finally took up a position on a pair of steps so that my friend Daphna and I could do a kind of synchronized go-go routine that was pure joy. There’s nothing like people dancing in time to the same tune to make everyone happy, dancers and watchers. It’s the arms going right, left, right, left, right, left, while hips go left, right, left, right, left, right, that sets up an irresistible beat that’s maybe the diastole and systole of the heart, maybe simply good bipartisan politics.