The speech done, I felt a huge rush of relief. Thank Tolstoy that is over!
The crowd responded with loud applause. I guessed they were happy one of us could finish a speech.
Being the last speaker, the chairman took the stage after me and explained the voting process. Surrounded by friends and family, I heard little of his explanation of the party rules for casting ballots. After congratulatory shakes and hugs from my immediate entourage, came the others. Everyone acted as if they had known me for years. This part felt strange and intoxicating.
Dale, my manager and confidant, the person most to blame for my participation leaned in and whispered, “Don’t guess at names… always act like you are happy to see them… and keep moving…”
The next thirty minutes of voting flew by. I was grabbing hands, smiling at everyone, hugging folks, while telling people, “It’s great to see you!” and “Thanks for coming out!” while recognizing only a few faces. I worked the room like an old pro feeding off the positive energy. I had connected with the crowd, and I did it without talking about getting shot.
I was so caught up in the excitement, I almost missed casting my own ballot. Dale reminded me to vote before the clock ran out.
“You better get to the table and vote. Losing by one vote is a life-shattering experience… particularly when it’s your own,” he said.
The voting done, I made my way to the toilet for a few quiet moments. Dale followed close behind me. He pushed me in the accessible stall and locked the door.
“I just wanted to thank you for letting me talk you into this shit show,” he said.
“So, you follow me in an accessible washroom?!”
“You should be comfortable with company in here. Isn’t this where you guys spend all your spare time?” he joked.
“When we are not having sex in stairwells or dark movie theatres…”
He laughed. “Come on, give me a hug.”
“You are going to win this thing,” he said.
“Ha! Even if I do, it won’t mean much if we keep hanging out in the accessible toilet while an angry paraplegic is forced to relieve himself in the hallway. I can see the headline now… gay candidate gets caught in washroom stall while disabled supporter’s bladder explodes…”
“Ha! You are going to have to clean up your jokes after tonight,” he replied.
“That’s the least of my problems.”
“Yeah, I suppose you are right,” he said.
We hugged again. As I grabbed the door handle I turned to Dale.
“So, shithead if we do win, what’s the plan? What do we do next?”
“Good question. I haven’t thought that far ahead. Don’t sweat it. I am working on it. I wasn’t sure we would make it this far,” he said with a smile.
Troy Myers 