Almost five p.m.. Tired people returning home. Me, I’m biking along the lake, thinking about tomorrow’s election and about food.
I’m heading toward the City-County building to cast my absentee ballot. (I prefer to vote today and save tomorrow for other things. Eating maybe.)
To my right, the familiar sight of a lonely soul walking along the tracks. This always gets to me. There’s no room for unbridled joy on the tracks. It’s at best – a pensive place, at worst, a life sucks kind of amble.
Loneliness is watching concession speeches made by people you hoped would make victory speeches.
Oh, we are jovial, standing in that line to cast our ballots. We are Fair Wisconsin! We are the ones voting today so that we can be available to get out the vote tomorrow. Or to put food on the table to feed the empty-spirited, because something tells me there will be a lot of empty spirited people mulling around my town by sundown.
Two years ago I ate comfort food on the eve of the day after. Meatloaf with Ann. She had voted one way and I had voted another and there we were, sharing meatloaf, because life goes on.
Tonight I am going to seek out the comfort food ahead of election day. A reservation in a pizza joint, made days in advance. (Does anyone else in this world reserve in advance at a pizza joint?)
I stand in line, waiting for my turn to vote and I joke and I laugh in that hollow way that one does when one doesn’t know how else to behave. And I vote. One line on one page, then – flip it over and a big fat line to indicate my NO on the state constitutional amendment.
And then I make my way to Porta Alba, the only place on this side of the ocean that serves a real, Italian-style pizza. I take the funghi, with tomato and mozzarella.