Thursday, December 13, 2012

Thursday May 24 The movie with Primo

Primo and I went to see a movie about the protests at the capitol. Samantha had suggested that he try to recruit volunteers for his campaign before the movie, but we got caught in traffic and arrived at 6:54, six minutes before the movie was supposed to begin. Primo was all agitated that he was going to miss something, but when I saw the line snaking out of the theater doors, I said that I bet they would wait until everyone was in the theater.

As we waited, we were assaulted with people with clipboards, looking for volunteers for this and that cause. I smiled and shook my head, but with one particularly pushy guy, I finally responded. I held up one of Primo's clipboards and asked, "Do you want to volunteer to help with my husband's campaign?"

That shut him up.

The movie didn't start on time. They waited until everyone was in the theater, then they waited another 20 minutes. Twenty minutes of sitting around, twiddling my thumbs, not even able to get on my smartypants phone because there was no reception inside the building because there is never reception inside a building with T-Mobile, the worst phone company in the world.

Then the speeches started and they were just as boring as you might imagine highly-partisan political speech to be. At the end of the last speech, the director invited us to stay after the movie ended to "dialogue." Then she said the movie would start "momentarily." Primo and I swiveled toward each other and laughed. "So it's going to start and then stop again right away?" he asked.

When the movie was (finally) over, I thought we could leave and I could get home and have something to eat, as the chocolate I had smuggled in for us had not been sufficient. But no. The director stood up, along with some of the cast, so they could take questions.

Primo handed his clipboard to me. "I want to say something," he said.

He was away before I could think to tell him to announce he was running.

When he got to the microphone, he spoke about how the protests had changed his life and now he was running for office. Then he stepped away.

I stood up and yelled, "Say your name! Tell them who you are!"

He looked startled, but didn't do anything.

"That's Primo and he's my husband. I can vouch for him."

The audience laughed.

He stepped back to the mike. "My wife wants me to say my name. I'm Primo and I'm running for the state house in November."

I smiled. My work was done. I got my phone out and tried to get a signal again while the rest of the audience dialogued.

"Let's go stand in the back," Primo suggested when he returned to his seat. "I can talk to people there."

I grabbed a handful of his cards and started giving them to people. "Vote for my husband in November," I said.

A woman came up and hugged Primo. I stuck my hand out and said, "I'm Golddigger, Primo's wife."

Honestly. Hugging another woman's husband in front of her?

The woman had seen me handing out cards. "Are you running for office?" she asked.

"No," I said. "Just him."

"I do training for women who want to run," she said. "You should run."

I bit my lip. "Oh, that's Primo's thing," I said.

"No!" she said. "We need more women in office."

I shook my head as I pressed my lips together. I was pretty sure she would not like what I wanted to say, which was if I ran for office, it would not be as a Polka Dot. So I just smiled again and said, "All I want to do is get him elected. One politician per family is enough."

"Here's my card," she said. "Think about it. There are plenty of dual-politician couples."

I wanted to ask, "And how many of them are on the opposite sides of the aisle?" But I didn't. Blessherheart.

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