After working my ass off for the last few days of GOTV, by the time I arrived at Philadelphia International Airport the day after the election, I was dog-tired. My flight had just arrived from Cleveland -- and I still had another leg of the trip to go before I landed back home in Boston.
I walked down the long, wide hallway and found my terminal. Plunking down my bag down next to my travel companions, I decided to walk back up the hallway to "ExpressSpa" thinking that a cheesy shoulder and neck massage would help to ease my aching bones.
The monday night before the election it was raining in Cleveland.
I was assigned to Newburgh Heights, just outside of the city. I was wearing a yellow transparent poncho, carrying door knocking lit and a clipboard. Hours ago most would have described me as drenched. I struggled to keep my clipboard and literature dry, while attempting to navigate my way around neighborhoods I had never seen.
Step by step, blisters stung my feet. Since noon I had been avoiding tending to them, knowing that being diabetic, once I removed my shoes, I would not be able to continue. Ignorance was bliss.
Lightning strikes were close by. It was 7pm, so it was dark. I arrived at the first address on what would be the last piece of turf I was assigned on that day. I had been out on the streets since 7am ... going door to door asking for votes.