Mega Monday

The morning of Sunday, February 3, was handicapping heaven. Nearly every channel save for Bravo and Animal Planet was broadcasting some spirited punditry or other about one of two Superthings: Super Tuesday, on which their speculation (and votes) could conceivably effect the outcome, and Super Bowl Sunday, which excludes talking heads from participating.

You'd think Monday would be a timeout, a break from the national TV binge -- a day to take the kids to the park, maybe catch a movie alone or take your dog on an extra walk. Oh wait -- I guess you'd only think that if you hadn't turned on a TV or booted up a computer in the last 15 years.

On the contrary, far from being the eye of our media speedball, today marks Mega Monday. Pre-gaming and post-gaming, predicting and recapping collide in an invigorating splendor of digital splice-i-tude. After the jaw-dropping Giants victory over what may have been the greatest NFL team in history (disclaimer: the blogger knows nothing about football), our blood is left to cool... but only until we happen upon one of the 689,000 shows, blogs, articles or -- amazingly -- person-to-person conversations about the races.

For my part, I canvassed Saturday in the Los Feliz section of LA on behalf of Barack Obama. I've voted in every year I've been able to -- save for one where geography made it hard, and the electoral college convinced me it was meaningless, anyhow -- but Saturday was the first time I laid hand on either nut or bolt of politics. I was nervous, to say the least. While I consider myself reasonably informed, and I happily enter into dinner conversations about policy and the candidates' pros and cons, knocking on people's doors is... a little scary. In LA, even in a middle-class neighborhood like Los Feliz, people are conditioned to be fearful of strangers outside their homes. Many times, after pressing a doorbell, I'd listen for quiet footsteps and watch as the peephole darkened, only to have the door remain closed. At that point, persistence is your ally. You ring again, and usually the door is opened, more out of a desire to get whatever it is over with quickly than anything else.

Most people politely revealed their choice, if they had made one. Obama supporters, naturally, were more enthusiastic and helpful once they realized who I was for. One undecided woman worried that the senator from Illinois, while more inspiring than his counterpart, would have no idea how to get things done in Washington. This is a common charge and one which is impossible for me to substantively refute, except to say that Obama's a pretty brilliant guy and seems to know how to make friends without compromising too many principles. This woman was the only person I met who wanted to talk.

One young woman, when I asked her if Senator Obama could count on her vote, politely answered through a crack in the door that she was undecided. I thanked her for her time and turned to go. As soon as she closed the door, I heard her exclaim to a friend on the phone that "some dipshit from the Obama campaign" had showed up at her house. She went on to say that cold calls were one thing, but this was "simply too much to bear." I found this oddly relieving, like a glove had just come off, even if from behind a closed door, and the bare fist didn't hurt that much.

To this young woman, and everyone else forced to tolerate this brief interruption of their day, please accept my apology. I might have reacted the same way once, so accustomed was I to engaging politics through the glass wall of the television or the page of a newspaper. But this year is different. This year, we're blessed with the end of a hideous, disenfranchising era. This year it might be fun to take the punditry for what it is -- an endless forecast by political meteorologists -- and actually step outside. Because while Mega Monday belongs to the pundits, I can say without the least bit of irony that Super Tuesday belongs to us.

Oh...and go Giants.