Canvassing turns up some interesting folks, you bet. I was knocking on doors late yesterday in Arapahoe County and wasn't getting many answers - then I happened to ring Karl's doorbell. I'll call him Karl, because his real name is not important.
Karl, a forty-ish heavy-set man, came to the door in what appeared to be his work clothes, and before I could open my mouth exclaimed "oh, it's the neo-Marxist!" I was wearing my blue convention t-shirt, the one with the graphic of a smiling Barack and nothing else but the word "PRESIDENT" under it.
I thought he was joking, riffing on the "socialist" tag that McCain was trying to pin on Senator Obama, so I quickly looked behind me as if thinking he was addressing someone else, then responded with a lighthearted "sure, Marxist, socialist, whatever..."
Karl wasn't joking. "No, he's a neo-Marxist ward heeler from the south side of Chicago!" Karl's tone was such that he clearly believed this pronouncement ought to either convince me of the error of my ways, or at least cause me to run screaming into the twilight.
When neither of those things happened and I continued to stand there, Karl asked "do you still want to try me?" "Sure, why not?" I replied. This didn't set well. "What if I told you I've already voted?"
Karl now was trying to get rid of me. He had tried to pick a fight, but I wouldn't play, so it was time to run me off. I was okay with that plan.
"Then I thank you for your time," I said, as I turned to walk away.
"No you don't!" Part of me wanted to say "yes I do, Karl, I really do," but the better part won out. I kept on walking. "I cancelled out your vote!"
"Okie dokie," I called back over my shoulder. This was my last encounter of the day, the last door I knocked on that was opened by a human being.
~#~#~
Then this morning I went to the rally at the Civic Center downtown. It was glorious. 100,000 plus peaceful souls...
Campaigning has a strange way of paying you back ten times over for every angry, nasty person you meet.