I expected the convention to be dark after Trump was shot. It’s something else entirely.

As I arrived in Milwaukee a day after a 20-year-old tried to kill Donald Trump, I expected the mood to be tense. The first thing I saw downtown at 9 a.m. Monday outside the Republican National Convention was a large sign, placed by the city by a part of the road closed for construction, that read “Project Funded by President Joe Biden’s Bipartisan Infrastructure Law.” Biden’s name had been scribbled out with black marker. I crossed one of the many small bridges that had been closed to vehicular traffic by law enforcement to secure the area where the convention was being held. Beneath the bridges, police boats patrolled the Milwaukee River. I held my breath as I approached the security checkpoint.

Almost instantly, I realized I had read the vibe all wrong. The law enforcement and volunteers working the entryway had me through a bag scan and a metal detector in seconds. The mood was not tense—it was almost chipper. Once inside, I was again surprised by the jubilance of the many conventiongoers. Red hats crowned smiling faces as attendees giddily rushed toward the arena and secured a place in line to get inside and escape the heat. The mood seemed to sour only when the line didn’t move. Delegates and guests became disgruntled. “Let us in!” one shouted, as a security guard shrugged. He ignored her.

I made conversation with a Missouri delegate while we waited. She raised her white jacket above her head, jokingly offering to block the sun for both of us. “I’m excited. I’m encouraged. Everyone is pumped,” she said of the energy inside the compound. Narrowing her gaze, she asked me whom I was voting for. I deflected, asking about the assassination attempt on Trump. She paused. “I thought about Melania and how hard that would be for her,” she said. “It was a miracle that his head turned when it did.” As I asked her about Biden’s message to turn down the temperature, she scoffed: “Why would we do that?”

Soon after, the doors flung open and the crowd flowed inside the arena. I followed and got the attention of another delegate, who had adorned a straw hat to represent his state of North Carolina. “I’m very excited for our party,” he told me. Again, the assassination attempt didn’t come up until I asked about it. “It will definitely ramp up the energy level for Trump supporters,” he said.

I moved through the crowd, and the mood only got more jubilant. One man sported an elephant hat fitted with a long trunk that extended and stuck out over his head. I spotted a pair of golden Trump shoes, and several people wore shirts with photos of Trump’s face printed all over them. One woman sported a large top hat with an image of Abraham Lincoln next to Trump pulling his shirt open to reveal a Superman S beneath it.

Brenda and Debbie, two excited delegates, shared their recent encounter with Vivek Ramaswamy. “He thanked us for our support,” Brenda beamed. When I tried to steer the conversation toward the assassination attempt, they reluctantly engaged. “It made me angry, but it didn’t surprise me,” one offered. Nearby, Jodi Schwartz, a Palm Beach County Republican who wore a bedazzled Trump pin next to one that featured the state of Florida inside a stiletto heel, cheerfully described her experience at the convention so far. “Disneyland for Republicans,” she said.

The comparison was apt. On my way out of the arena, I ran into Madison Cawthorn, the unseated former congressman. He was the only one I talked to who brought up the assassination attempt unprompted. “First they tried to assassinate his character. Then they tried to assassinate his business. The only thing they had left was to try and assassinate the man himself,” he told me, his media training evident. “When things don’t go the left’s way, they burn down cities, they loot, they rob, they riot. When our actual presidential nominee gets shot and lawfare happens against him, we get organized.” As he went on his way, he asked where the interview would publish. I told him Slate. He smiled and said, “Oh no! This is going to end up being a terrible interview!”

Outside the arena, I ran into the right-wing gadfly Jack Posobiec. Like Cawthorn, he blamed the left for Trump’s assassination attempt, and he criticized Joe Biden’s statement calling to de-escalate tensions. “I’d love to see some action behind his words,” he said, suggesting that Biden arrange the release of Peter Navarro and Steve Bannon (“political prisoners”) as a gesture of goodwill. There was also Mike Lindell, who famously ran out of money after falling down the “stolen election” rabbit hole. I interrupted the uniformed police officers who took turns taking photos with him to ask him a few questions. Lindell told me his energy was up “because I sleep on MyPillow and I get up feeling great” but turned dark when I asked about the attempt on Trump’s life. “I’ve been to 150 rallies. I know his security. And it was not secure,” he said, implying that it had been intentional.

There were more MAGA celebrities inbound, with gaggles of giddy convention attendees lined up to take selfies with them. And as I continued to navigate the convention on its first day, the excitement remained in the air. People dutifully condemned Democrats—who were described as all-powerful but also somehow feeble and inept—and the shooting if I asked. But each time I got the slight sense I was ruining the vibe a little bit. More than once, people around me broke into chants of “U-S-A!” with laughter and the easy confidence of people who think they have this thing in the bag. Whatever horrors the weekend had brought, they were ready to party.