Who were those guys? There were loads of them. People who had never been seen about the place before smiled as if they owned it - and in a sense they did.
They filed behind their party leader, like altar servers after a bishop. Slowly and deliberately they proceeded down the marble staircase of Stormont's Great Hall and into the Assembly chamber. But just who were they? With neat hairstyles and what looked like their Sunday best, they stepped into the gaze of a battery of camera crews before exiting stage left towards the blue leather of the chamber.
Some of them we knew - the Paisleys and the Robinsons, Nigel Dodds, Jeffrey, and the various conquerors of Ulster Unionists. We recognised the MPs, now with the initials MLA added, but who were the other guys?
It took a while for their smiling ranks to shuffle through the Assembly's double doors. Who were they? It's not easy to take the images from election posters, place them on shoulders and give them names.
The procession over, the scale of the DUP takeover of unionism had become apparent, such was the massing of the Assembly party.
We traded notes and whispers: "That's such-and-such, you know, he beat yer man in wherever it was." That kind of stuff.
Gradually the unknowns acquired names - the "many" who had trounced Sir Reg Empey's "few".
He cut a forlorn figure alone before the microphone as he voiced his doubt on the stability of the prospective Coalition of Enemies. Indeed, he looked diminished.
So too did the SDLP. Their depleted ranks headed for the chamber without ceremony. No questions were shouted by reporters, no answers were expected.
Then came the march of the Sinn Féiners. Down the elegant staircase they came, leadership figures and backbenchers together, the familiar and the freshly elected stepping slowly at a camera-friendly pace.
Youthful faces throughout illustrated how the gladiatorial parties on both sides had managed to attract the next generation. Clearly nothing succeeds quite like success.
Once inside, Speaker Eileen Bell invited them to register as members, to sign the roll and designate themselves as "unionist", "nationalist" or whatever you're having yourself.
Inviting the swelled ranks of the DUP and Sinn Féin to sign in turn, she appealed for order, "as this could take some time". Two-by-two they leaned to sign on the dotted line. One of the yet-to-be-identified female newbies had unwisely opted for a low-cut top. Bending to sign, the platform camera captured a lingering view.
Outside, the Stormont estate was filled by lawnmower buzz and the reviving whiff of chopped grass.