Yesterday was Super Tuesday, when 10 states including Massachusetts headed to the polls for the 2012 Presidential Primaries. I realized quite early in the morning that it wouldn’t be a typical boring election day in my neighborhood when, down the street, numerous television vans were congregating outside of the senior center adjoining our local ballpark/playground. It could only be… Mitt Romney and I have the same polling place!
Yes, we live in the same little first-ring suburban town where Mitt Romney claims residence through a seldom-used condo (purchased after the Romneys sold their sprawling estate on the hill in the same town). It’s one reason that I have a soft spot for Romney, that I can forgive him his grotesque wealth and entitlement. Because he’s not from some rarefied world that only richies live in, he’s from my town, which is only about one-quarter rarefied/richies. I think I’ll have a hard time (but not impossible) voting against him in November, because surely having a President as a resident of one’s town universally knocks up the property values, yes?
After some investigation, I found out that Romney would be voting shortly after 5pm, so I left work a little early so my voting would coincide with Mitt Madness. When I picked up Little Boy, I tried explaining our after-school errand but he didn’t understand — in fact, for a long time he was convinced we were going to go on a boat, not going to vote.
We parked in our driveway and walked down to the senior center at around 5pm. Our quiet neighborhood was overrun with cars, reporters, onlookers, and policemen, and above us two helicopters hovered. I walked into the senior center, practically pulling Little Boy, who was dazzled by all of the exotic vehicles. (If I was smart, I would have waited until Romney showed up before going in, but when I’m with Little Boy, I’m all about efficiency. Besides, I suspect we are different precincts, because they switched rooms so that my bigger middle-class precinct was in a smaller room, and the smaller precinct of rarefied richies was in a larger room).
It took me all of a minute to vote, and we went outside to join the phalanx of spectators. Shortly after, Romney arrived:
Romney's forehead
Do you see it, behind the massive policeman? Do you see… Romney’s forehead? It was all I could manage with my phone’s camera. Romney rapidly walked into the building, followed by his wife Ann. We loitered outside for about ten minutes. The crowd was getting bigger, and Little Boy antsier, and I finally decided to leave. When we got home, we turned on the television to watch local news coverage of a mini-press conference that Romney gave after he emerged from the polling station (helicopters in stereo!) Romney autographed some signs and books for the onlookers, and I sort of wished we had stayed so I could thrust Little Boy into his arms for a photo. Alas, maybe we’ll try again in November.
