Election Day, Distraction Night, Coyote Morning

By Randy Harward, 11-09-05

Mornin’ sunshines. Does it feel like there was an election yesterday? Or just a long, boring party? In New West’s Salt Lake City headquarters, we have one vote for the latter and—hell, who’s counting? Well nobody, now. The polls have closed, with no real surprises or even disappointments.

Truly, I wasn’t too invested in this election. You may have gleaned that much since the issue that got me all in a twist was Murray Mayor Dan Snarr’s telemarketing for votes. See, the last election, that presidential one, really sucked. I contemplated reverting to the political ideology of my early twenties: eh. Of course, I didn’t—I like to think I’m now more determined to have a voice. Only as I look back on the events of yesterday, I see that I was apathetic.

I could tell you I forgot to vote because I was intentionally indifferent due to 2004 disillusionment, or that I was busy with work and it was my mom’s birthday. The work and birthday parts are true. The 2004 thing is horseshit. None of them are any excuse; I knew what the calendar and newspaper and TV and everyone around me said.

My intent, when I left the white-bread restaurant where we scarfed pie and yakked and said “Really, do you like [your gift]?,� was to stop by the polls and tickle a touch screen (or punch a card—whatever). Thing is, I just got in the car, cranked up some vintage 80s butt rock and rolled straight to the TRAX station. There, I sat soloing on the steering wheel and kidding with the kids while keeping one eye on the clock’s digital display, mentally urging it to clock faster. I wasn’t looking out for poll closure; I was hungry. The sooner wifey’s choo-choo rolled up, the sooner I could be filling my bread basket.

Train comes, wife slides into passenger seat, doofus drives to strip mall and buys a sandwich—then cruises home, not four blocks from the polls. Inside, the clock read 8:17. The polls were closed. In the words of UK poet laureate Def Leppard, it was too late for love.

What’d I do? I took my sandwich into the office and commenced gathering information about election results and posting it on New West. As I watched the statistics tick, clicking “refresh� with one hand and using the other to wipe guacamole and ranch dressing from my face, I hoped to see some reflection of my views in the results. I did and I did not. I told myself that’s really all a pragmatic “voter� should hope for; even if you do vote, lopsided landslides derail true progress.

Not like I hadn’t already derailed myself. See, I haven’t completely checked out. I read the news. I write and bitch about the issues. Yet, here I am.

Today I’m brushing my teeth and asking the frothy-mouthed goober in the mirror why he didn’t make it a point to cast a vote. Where was my head? Is there a bigger, more significant or cosmic reason (read: excuse) that I treated an election like a TV show I could afford to miss? Do I really, genuinely care about the issues?

I have no excuses (duh). I must care, otherwise I wouldn’t have a post-Election Day hangover when the results aren’t exactly surprising or displeasing to me. On top of that I wouldn’t be enjoying a coyote morning, having woken up next to the ugly truth that I let slip an opportunity to speak. I leave you now to find a pot to puke in while I simultaneously promise to never, ever to do again what I did last night. [End of article]