James Hynes

The scene after work, about five o'clock. A couple hours later, after dark, when I came back for the caucus, the line ran halfway down the sidewalk from the school. Once I found out it was the line for the caucus and not for voting (I don't really understand this either), I took my place. A few minutes later, the line ran all the way down to street, turned right, and ran to the corner.

The wait ended up being about an hour; I'm not sure why. The caucuses were supposed to begin as soon as the voting ended, and the voting ended pretty soon after the polls closed at 7. Still, it was a mostly pleasant wait, chatting with folks from my neighborhood. Mostly what we talked about was, why are we waiting so long? Through the windows to the right of the school door we could see that the cafeteria, where the caucus was to take place, was packed with people. A few people actually came out of the cafeteria to wait outside, because it was so hot in there.

In the meantime, we were entertained by Obama supporters, mainly, especially a very high-spirited young woman who ran up and down the line in the dark, woo-hooing and handing out Quaker Oats granola bars. This was the closest I've seen the Obama campaign actually come to the kind of ward-heeling Chicago politics that they were accused of by that talk radio host who introduced John McCain last week: while they weren't actually emptying bars or drunktanks or graveyards to pad the vote, they were offering inducements in the form of granola bars. I took one because I was starving, and what the hell, I was going to vote for the guy anyway.

Meantime, a steady stream of election officials came out to explain what was going on (or what wasn't, as the case may be). The young woman next to me in line had a fancy cellphone with Internet access, and she was checking on the Ohio results periodically. Another, calmer, older Obama supporter came out with a box of blueberry muffins (I had two, further deepening my corruption), and she paused to explain how delegates were selected and apportioned. For the last few weeks, I've been struggling through Brian Greene's book about string theory, and frankly, string theory is easier to understand that the Texas Democratic Party delegate selection process. The women standing around me all seemed to be nodding as if they understood, but I was in a sugar stupor from the muffins and the granola bar and didn't follow a word of it.

It became clear pretty quickly that the vast majority of people in line were Obama supporters. At one point a woman came out looking forlornly for volunteers to be Hillary delegates, and she wasn't getting any takers as she moved down the line. Austin's a liberal town (compared to the rest of Texas, anyway), and my neighborhood, between Zilker Park, Barton Springs Road, and South Lamar, is one of the most liberal in the city. I was in line mostly with a lot of attractive white women in their 30s and 40s, soft-spoken, gently ironic, keeping in touch with their friends, partners, and families with their cells as they waited. There were a few middle-aged guys, older than the women, with salt-and-pepper beards and wearing Birkenstocks. (You can see one below.)

Finally they opened the doors (see the picture above) and we started to inch inside. Then they shut them again, and another official came out to explain that because of the overflow crowd, they were putting the line on pause momentarily to set up more tables. When the doors opened again a few minutes later, a few more people came out and said that Hillary supporters could come right in, because there wasn't that much of a wait, and a few of them streamed past us, but not many. The rest of us Obamanoids continued to creep forward.

Once inside, things moved pretty quickly. There was one table signing up Hillary folk on the left, while to the right there was a whole line of Obama tables. It looked like a mob (albeit a friendy, joking, gentle mob), and finally the forthright young woman with the fancy cellphone saw a break ahead of us, and beckoned our little group to follow her. A minute or two later, I was standing at the table, ready to sign my name as an Obama supporter. I asked the happy young guy behind the table to take my picture as I signed. Here's what I looked like, doing my civic duty:

Then I went home to watch the results on MSNBC. When I woke up this morning, I found out that despite my best efforts, my guy had lost in Texas (and Ohio and Rhode Island). So I'm feeling a little cranky and out-of-sorts this morning, though that might just be me coming down from last night's sugar high.

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