josh (joshc) wrote,

he's simple. he's dumb. he's the pilot.

I was up at five a.m. yesterday and spent the morning in the pouring rain, walking the streets and trailer parks of Burien with post-it reminders, soggy address lists, and water soaked shoes in the shadow of airplanes taking off and landing at Boeing Field. In the afternoon, with cold wet feet, I made tons of calls to turn out the infrequent voters and occasionally stood outside to get cell phone reception to call the swing state kids from the Music for America lists.

As much as I tried not to pay attention to the exit polls that Jeff kept reporting as we coordinated a meeting at the Stranger's election party, it was pretty hard not to feel optimistic on the way from the Aerospace Machinist's Hall to Chop Suey. Which, I suppose was nice, since it was hard to not throw up all over the floor as the real numbers started showing up and people started throwing things at the giant television screen.

We stayed for way too long, until well after CNN invented "green" as the color of "too close to call" and the Infernal Noise Brigade invaded the bar. I actually followed them out, and sort of back toward my apartment. They stopped at the Lower Level; so I tagged along because I couldn't think of anything better to do.


Toward the end of the night, Jeff tried to put a positive spin on things by saying that our day-to-day lives would be the same today, regardless of the winner. I'm not sure that's true. For the last year or two, at least there was the feeling of hope that the end was in sight, that there was light at the end of the tunnel, or that the past election had been a big mistake that was overdue for a correction. And now it turns out that the joke was on us.

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