Ahhh, Florida… Land of beaches, retirees, and tap water that is so gross and sulfurous it smells like Satan passed gas every time you turn on the shower.
The year: 2008. A coworker and I were on a business trip to Orlando. Thanks to a generous per diem, we got to eat meals on the company dime. We ate in nice restaurants and mostly had a good time. But one particular meal experience stands out, even sixteen years later.
It seemed like the topic on everyone’s lips was the presidential election. For you young’uns out there, it’s hard to overemphasize how momentous that election felt. After all, it looked like we very well might elect our very first black president! It was kind of electrifying.
So anyway, my coworker and I were chatting about what a big deal it was - and about how worryingly brain-dead Sarah Palin seemed to be. How could John McCain pick her as a running mate? I mean, here was a guy who we disagreed with, but he seemed to be principled. And then he picked this fringe nutcase for VP?
Oh, what sweet summer children we were. We didn’t recognize that Palin was a harbinger of horrifying things to come, and what the already-loathsome Republican party was going to turn into. But I digress…
So there we were, discussing the finer points of campaign promises and all that hope-y change-y stuff Obama was running on, when our waitress tentatively approached us. “You guys sound really knowledgeable,” she said, or something to that effect, and she asked us who we were planning to vote for.
She seemed earnest and genuine, and she clearly wasn’t looking for an argument, she just seemed a bit at a loss. I felt bad for her. So I told her I was going to vote for Obama, my coworker agreed, and we spent a few minutes explaining why.
When we asked her about her own plans, she looked worried and said, “I just don’t know.” So we asked her why.
Her answer has stuck with me ever since. “I’m not sure America is ready for a black president, but I don’t think a woman should be a heartbeat away from the presidency either.”
Let that roll around in your mind a bit. She was in a bind, because her racism had been forced into conflict with her ingrained self-defeating sexism, and she didn’t know what to do.
In 2008.
Every time I wonder if maybe Florida might finally pull its collective head out of its collective ass, my mind goes back to that conversation and I remember just how completely and thoroughly broken the state is.
It isn’t just Florida either. Much of the US South and Midwest are in the same boat mentality-wise. I sincerely think we’re going to be stuck in this limbo until most of the boomers are gone, but there are plenty in my generation (millennials) that are just as thick-headed. Gen X is right there too.
Story time!
Ahhh, Florida… Land of beaches, retirees, and tap water that is so gross and sulfurous it smells like Satan passed gas every time you turn on the shower.
The year: 2008. A coworker and I were on a business trip to Orlando. Thanks to a generous per diem, we got to eat meals on the company dime. We ate in nice restaurants and mostly had a good time. But one particular meal experience stands out, even sixteen years later.
It seemed like the topic on everyone’s lips was the presidential election. For you young’uns out there, it’s hard to overemphasize how momentous that election felt. After all, it looked like we very well might elect our very first black president! It was kind of electrifying.
So anyway, my coworker and I were chatting about what a big deal it was - and about how worryingly brain-dead Sarah Palin seemed to be. How could John McCain pick her as a running mate? I mean, here was a guy who we disagreed with, but he seemed to be principled. And then he picked this fringe nutcase for VP?
Oh, what sweet summer children we were. We didn’t recognize that Palin was a harbinger of horrifying things to come, and what the already-loathsome Republican party was going to turn into. But I digress…
So there we were, discussing the finer points of campaign promises and all that hope-y change-y stuff Obama was running on, when our waitress tentatively approached us. “You guys sound really knowledgeable,” she said, or something to that effect, and she asked us who we were planning to vote for.
She seemed earnest and genuine, and she clearly wasn’t looking for an argument, she just seemed a bit at a loss. I felt bad for her. So I told her I was going to vote for Obama, my coworker agreed, and we spent a few minutes explaining why.
When we asked her about her own plans, she looked worried and said, “I just don’t know.” So we asked her why.
Her answer has stuck with me ever since. “I’m not sure America is ready for a black president, but I don’t think a woman should be a heartbeat away from the presidency either.”
Let that roll around in your mind a bit. She was in a bind, because her racism had been forced into conflict with her ingrained self-defeating sexism, and she didn’t know what to do.
In 2008.
Every time I wonder if maybe Florida might finally pull its collective head out of its collective ass, my mind goes back to that conversation and I remember just how completely and thoroughly broken the state is.
It isn’t just Florida either. Much of the US South and Midwest are in the same boat mentality-wise. I sincerely think we’re going to be stuck in this limbo until most of the boomers are gone, but there are plenty in my generation (millennials) that are just as thick-headed. Gen X is right there too.
If it wasn’t for my horse I wouldn’t have spent that semester in school.
That’s not a Florida story, that’s an America story.
A rural area in 2016: Clinton thinks she’s owed the white house, and she basically already had her turn. So Trump I guess!