Yesterday, I exercised my 19th Amendment right to get my lady-vote on by participating in my very first Democratic caucus. Now that I don’t work in newspapers, I can reveal to you that I vote for the Ds. Unless the Republican candidate is super hot, in which case, my loyalties are easily shifted. Anyway, normally I don’t give a rat’s fanny about local politics. It holds about as much appeal for me as a paper cut or a smelly sneaker. But for some reason, I was moved to attend the caucus. Or, as one funny friend called it, the cockus because it’s kind of a big sausage fest. Zing!
I had heard the caucus might take a few hours, so I packed up my little backpack full of snacks and drinks and puzzles and games. Because I’m actually a five-year-old and need to be entertained at all times. My partner and I pedaled over to Memorial Auditorium, only to see massive lines of American patriots queueing to participate in the democratic process. Nice.I love America more than you. And standing in line is a great start to a day full of waiting.
When we finally got inside and checked in, it felt like we were at some huge party, minus the hookers and colossal mountains of coke. There was a real DJ, not one of those bums who play at weddings in stained, rented tuxes. There were signs and balloons and better snacks than I brought. And there were tons of people. The total number of voters was around 1,400, but with all the kiddies there, the crowd must have been closer to 50,000.
We found seats next to some friends and immediately we were bombarded by supporters of all the four candidates. They wanted our vote. Bad. So bad. It made me feel important. They needed me. I’m totally caucusing every day of my life henceforth. Their persuasion was all for naught, since I already knew who I was voting for — ME!