On Caucuses and Kazahk Airports

Attending the Alaska Democratic Caucus last night (Feb. 5) was akin to getting through security in an aiport in Kazahkstan. You just keep pushing.

Alaska (like my home state Iowa) has caucuses. Who knew? Apparently thousands of Anchorage-area folks, who slammed into Begich Middle School (Dems) and The Eagan Center (Repubs) to weigh in on Campaign 2008.

Getting there was half the fun (?). I sat in traffic for nearly 2 hours on 15th and Debarr, knowing I was arriving 50 minutes later than the doors-closing time. Luckily, Alaskans care very little for rules and proprieties, so you could register right up until the vote was counted.

Near the middle school, I pulled onto a sidestreet and ran the rest of the way. 12 mintues. Minus four degrees. With a flu bug I've nursed for four days. Hey, I love the policital process.

Cars were parked on sidewalks up and down Debarr Road, and the parking lot was full of cars parked so randonmly it was as if their owners were raptured, Left-Behind style. People were actually leaving cars in the roundabout in front of the school. When someone later had to be removed by ambulance, the person on the loudspeaker had to ask at least three times for cars to move out of the emergency vehicle's way.

Inside, the gym was a Kazahk airport. No lines, no order, just lots of blue signs screaming "Hillary" and "Obama" and glassy-eyed faces below. Many had arrived well before 5 pm. Registration was supposed to close at 6:30; I arrived at 6:50. People were still streaming around precinct maps and registration tables like so many drones in a hive. Voters hastilily filled out cards and pushed their way to registration officials to get counted.

When I finally found my precinct room, my room captain didn't even have a list of registered Democrats, so I had to re-register. I made it over to the floor just in time to get counted as an official voter. Then, more waiting until we could fan out and stand up for the candidate of our choice.

The woman on the loudspeaker in our room played dualing microphones with the overhead loudspeaker. Many precincts had to move rooms because they were too big. Someone in our room (precinct 23) had tried to create hospitality with cheese and crackers and potato chips. I missed the goodies; the empty carcasses littered tables, adding to the disheveled look of the room.

Finally, though, I was able to stand up for my candidate of choice and get counted. And that matters.

Despite my woozy-ness from flu and lack of food, it was a delight to see peoples' passion for the process. And the hope that things can be better in our nation. That we can stand up and ask for change. And that maybe, somehow, one of these candidates will listen to the voices of the people and advocate for the poor.

That's what I felt in the room that night: hope.

I was proud to be a part of the process.