I canvassed in Virginia today (because I live in DC, and I know that if I waste a single opportunity to help the cause between now and the counting of the last ballot I'll regret it forever). My territory was pretty barren - long walk between houses, lotsa no-homes. In fact, in the last hour I spent hitting doors I didn't talk to a single homeowner.
I did, however, have the best five-second conversation of my life.
As I was doing my rounds, I kept crossing paths with a middle-aged couple out canvassing for McCain. We exchanged friendly nods and a war-weary "Two more days!" - it was like we were British and German soldiers in the trenches in WWI, fellow-travellers along divergent paths. I wished them no ill, just soul-crushing defeat.
And I got to start the soul-crush-party a little early.
Like I said, there weren't many folks home this afternoon ... but I did spend ten minutes on the porch of a salty little sixty-something spitfire with blue hair and strong pro-Obama views. That should, in all fairness have been the high point of my day. But as it turned out, I was working my way back up the other side of that street when the McCainiacs reached Spitfire's house. I had to stop and watch. I wasn't disappointed.
I was pretending not to have seen the door that got promptly slammed in their faces - didn't want to give them any embarassment to temper their dejection, when a minivan full of kids in soccer gear screeched to a halt between me and the McCain canvassers. The driver-side window came down ... and there was Sarah Palin's non-evil twin.
"Hey!" she yelled. "Go Obama! Way to go! Get 'em out, get 'em to the polls! Everybody I know is gonna vote for Barack!"
"You know it!" I yelled back, batteries fully recharged. "Virginia's turning blue this year!"
"Yeah baby!" And with that, Jane Doe the Soccer Mom was on her way again. So was I. The McCain supporters? They stood on the sidewalk talking for a while, until my map took me around a corner. I don't know if they actually packed up and went home, but I never saw them again.
The moral of this story:
Get out. Be seen. Shock and awe, baby - the more of our troops they see in the field, the sicker they'll feel and the worse they'll perform
MCCAIN DELENDA EST