The Nerd's Eye View

I sat in the meeting, watching the minutes, mentally preparing for my hard ride to the train station. Five o'clock came and went, and I sat there nervously. At 5:15p I knew I had to leave the meeting or risk missing my train, which would put me in a tough position for getting to the polling site on time. I hastily excused myself and rushed to my desk, threw everything in my bag and ran to change and get my bike. Following Fat'n'Happy, my biking partner, I rode hard, my quads aching with the effort. Lights and traffic were not helpful, and we rounded the corner for the last straightaway for the station with no train in sight. Ahead of me, Fat'n'Happy slackened his pace, and so did I. As we approached, we saw the train at the platform, the platform empty, and the conductor standing in an open doorway. Then we saw the train pulling away as we rolled onto the platform. The next train, which would bring us to SF at 7p, with enough time to rush to the polling place, was missing - presumably behind schedule, and Fat'n'Happy informed me he wasn't registered to vote in the state of California.

It was then that it all fell into place: Boy Professor had called a meeting for the end of the day that went late despite his assertion that he needed to leave by 5:10; Fat'n'Happy had let up in the final stretch, even though he'd been pushing hard since we'd left work; now the train was delayed, perhaps indefinitely. This was a Republican plot to block black people from voting, in fact to block one black person from voting, me!

"How much is Rove paying you!" I spat at my colleague, to which he replied that this one was a freebie. Just then the train arrived, and I hopped on, determined to go out there and vote. At every stop the train would go silent, as if it had shut down, and then in Mountain View, the lights went out, and we sat in the sinister glow of the emergency lights. Those fiends! What lengths would they go to, to keep one black man from voting? Another 8 minutes and we were on the way again. From here on out this my own personal freedom ride, and I was hell bent on exercising my right to elect my representatives.

As the electoral Orient Express rolled into the final stop, I rushed to retrieve my bike and pedaled home as fast as I could. Stuffing my voter registration card in my back pocket I rode to the polling place and was one of the last people to vote there that day. As I marked off my selections I narrowed my eyes and sneered. Take that Karl Rove! We would meet again and next time the day would be mine… again.