I spent several hours on campus Thursday, between classes, collecting voter registration cards which I would turn in later that day to the Obama Headquarters downtown. I was hyped, I signed so many people up. I am very much an introvert, so I surprized myself in how many completed registrations and absentee converts (students who said they would vote back home) I got. Also on campus that day collecting voter registration cards was the League of Women Voters. I had worked with them on a previous campus event, so I didn't think twice about giving the completed cards to the group since they were heading to the Clerks office to turn them in. Bonehead move on my part. I didn't think that the Obama Headquarters would want those cards for their own data! Nor did I know that I had collected more than enough to earn me two VIP tickets to Saturday's event, a reward I had no idea would be coming. Bummer.
I cried. I cried like the time I cried when President William Jefferson Clinton (Billy Jeff) came to my hometown of Birmingham, Alabama in 11th grade and my government and economics class got to go see him. I'm not the most responsible cat. I forgot my driver's liscene at home that day, my cigarettes too, so as I boarded the bus, and our class was served with the reminder that we must have our ID. Bummer. I did get to work on the New York Times crossword with my history teacher though.
I cried. I cried like the time I arrived home from voting in 2004 and my brother-in-law said, "Boy you really can't complain about how difficult the voting machines are this time. You really have to be an idiot to screw that up!" and I was like, "hmmm...I thought it was overly complicated. Wait a minute!!!" So I didn't want to vote stright ticket,but I wanted to vote for the Dems that I was familiar with. So, I hit the button that lit up all the Democrats, and then I hit the button for the ones I like. So... basically I voted only for the people I didn't know, and essentially "unvoted" for the people I like. Bummer.
But fortunately, I heard on the news that tickets would be availiable to the 1000 people the next morning at the campaign office. Dern it. I was going to be the first person there, at six a.m. Well, my baby pooped and demanded an extra feeding, which was fine, but I got there at 8 am. On my way up to the line, I lucked into seeing on of the campaign managers, and she asked me if I would work the event, and I was like, "HECK YEAH!" I still stood in line and got two tickets, so everything was wonderful.
The next morning I went through my routine, with only one snafu. (Situation normal all f----- up) I just leared what that stood for. Anyway, I took my Trazadone, which I ocasionally take to sleep instead of my Celexa, my antidepressant. Both are little round white pills. Only problem is, I take a whole lot more Celexa than I do Trazadone, so within thirty minutes I was doing the Trazadone Shuffle - a hip little dance - - watch out ya'll.
Crap. "I should not drive. I should not drive. I am not going to miss Senator Obama. I'm driving!" I had a house guest parked behind me in the drive. I knew that I had room to manuever around, so I did not bother waking my guest to move his car. I stumble lethargically into my car, shifted my car into reverse, and backed STRAIGHT into his parked car. "Crap!" I ran out of my car to check for damage. On the way I steped on an unevern patch of lawn and twisted my ankle. I fell to the ground and gritted my teeth..."I will not cry. I will not cry.. I must see Obama!" There was no noticable damage so I hobbled and shuffled back to my car and hit the road. One ace bandage and three hours of parking cars later, I did it. I finally made it to see Barack Obama! It was worth all the sweat, all the tears, the hyper-tranquilized state, and a busted ankle to get there.
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