I just came back from what I can only describe as an all-around, incredibly rewarding canvassing trip to South Carolina this weekend -- the first I've ever taken.
The good and the bad were part of a whole that has once again renewed my faith in everyday people playing their part in the presidential campaign.
Today's post is just about the bus-ride itself. Several young professionals in DC had gotten together to raise funds for a bus to put a whole bunch of college kids on to canvass for Barack this weekend. The challenges were going to be to get some checks, and to get kids in seats -- and we met both with surprising ease. Among the organizers, I was tasked with overseeing the actual day of departure.
I got to the bus site -- right in the heart of DC -- about an hour early, just to be safe. It was the first time in the history of the Martinez family, and perhaps the entire Latin race, that one of us has shown up ahead of time for an important event. The second to arrive, also significantly in advance of the official departure, were the Japanese media! NHK did a feature on the grassroots support for Obama in the USA, and so we were talking for about half an hour before the first student showed up. Because I, a 5'6", part-time volunteer with no communications skills and a slight lisp, am so clearly the one that should be on camera, I did an interview.
Once the students started coming, though, they came in droves. It was pretty awesome to turn around and see the group go from 5 to 15, then to 20, then 58, in a matter of about 10 minutes. We had to round up a few stragglers, but it wasn't too hard to do... you could tell who was supposed to be on the bus by the youthful faces, hopeful expressions and huge, poorly packed sleeping bags. "Hey, the bus is parked right there down the block," someone in a blue tee shirt told me after tapping me on the shoulder. "Are you the driver?" I asked. "No," he said, bemused, "I go to American U."
I shook the real driver's hand and, before I could even introduce myself, he interjected "you're with the Obama crusade, aren't you?" I couldn't tell if it was supportive or condescending until I saw the twinkle in his eye and the smile break on his face.
And so we loaded them on, like clockwork. Within fifteen minutes, every seat was full. My phone was buzzing, and "Rob from Baltimore" was on the line -- the overflow vans from Maryland would be late. "How many people are you bringing with you?" I asked. In short order it became clear that Adam Barr, the DC for Obama Chair, had done such a good job of coordinating the list that we would need only one van.
Now, waiting in downtown Washington for an hour and forty minutes while your ride fights through I-95 traffic isn't exactly fun, but I suppose the kids on the bus, sitting in the same traffic south of DC, weren't doing any better. I think the conversations you can squeeze out of these moments are the best measure of productivity, and we have some great ones. I don't envy full-time staffers in this respect, who I'm sure have countless hurry-up-and-wait moments like that one.
Eventually we made it on the van, and I'll say this much -- some of those Maryland folk are real characters. Aside from better synchronizing future departures, another lesson I learned was never think you've met the strangest person you re going to meet on the campaign. There's one gentleman in particular I will never, to the day I die, forget. And not for his piercing mind for policy debates, that's for sure. Someone will come along and blow your mind every time. But that's Democracy, right? Everyone thinking they're the most sane person in the room and voting accordingly?
Down we drove, with our driver just missing warp speed on several occasions. At one point I swear I saw a van-full of Libyan terrorists chasing us to get the flux capacitor back. And that would all have been fine -- hey, what sleep-starved young campaign volunteer doesn't want to put his life at risk in an easily-tipped van full of strangers? -- except that at about 11:30 PM, after we nearly drove into the guardrail for the third time, I noticed that something wasn't quite right.... was he TEXTING???
He was texting.
Now, it's true, he was texting with other carpoolers, and with one of the coordinators down at S.C. HQ, but I want to remind you, the man is hurtling down I-95 at Autobahn speeds. Once I and a fine UMD undergrad named Steven figured out what was going on, neither of us slept much the rest of the trip.
During the ride I had a chance to talk with Mike, the full bus's captain, on the phone, who assured me the "DC 58" were in good health, though they'd been caught up in some traffic and were only about an hour ahead of us. On their ride, they'd done homework, reading, socializing, and most importantly, penned thank you letters to the donors who made the bus possible in the first place. Mike, easily a full 30 years older than everyone else on the bus, had given them a brief training session, and then gone to sleep, allowing the other people on the bus to endure the frat-party withdrawal symptoms on their own.
Once we finally got down to Columbia, I could feel the relief in the van. I had been so excited on my way into the Carolinas, my first such trip, that I had done a little texting of my own: "First time in the Carolinas!" I wrote. My friends all answered back with surprising similar responses, all some variation on "eat something fried!"
Tomorrow, I'll write about the actual canvassing experience, which was its own story entirely.