Thursday, August 23, 2012

The excitement of having an entire political party descend on your city is virtually unimaginable, literally, because I’m not sure why anybody would want such a thing to happen. Imagine if your town were chosen for the Olympics. Then, take away the sports, the torches, and the medals. It’s kinda like that, albeit with the specter of horrific traffic. I guess it might be exciting if you own a restaurant and want a million percent more foot traffic. But I don’t own a restaurant, and with the DNC just two weeks away, I was jolted to realization: it’s time to stock up on food and water and batten down the fucking hatches.

The last time I was in the vicinity of politics was 2008–the first time I ever voted. I remember the wait. The excitement. Bodies wending toward rows of metal machines. I remember the plastic man who tried to touch my hand. In truth, I only remember these things because I re-read the post. Four years after casting my ballot, I’ve reverted back to political apathy, and it’s served me well.

Perhaps I haven’t completely backslid, because I still plan on voting. I do so, however, unencumbered by illusions of partaking in something larger than myself. It is a grim duty to be endured, like a dental cleaning or an oil change. Mainly? I want that “I Voted” sticker to add to the back page of my soiled office notebook.