NC Young Democrats Convention, part 1

[Got to love spring migraines and general procrastination…better late than never, right?]

It’s 6 a.m. on a Saturday, and for some reason I’m awake. I figure that I need to leave my house by 7:20 at the latest in order to make it to the Sheraton in “Research Triangle Park” (a.k.a. some civic no-man’s land between Durham and Raleigh) in time to register for the state Young Democrats convention. Note: I am SO NOT a morning person. But I am a procrastinating person. Which is why, instead of rolling out of bed two hours from now (after having driven to my sister’s apartment in Raleigh on Friday night) I’m slamming my “snooze” button at 6 a.m. on a frickin’ Saturday.

I have to talk myself into it – James Carville! John Edwards! Chelsea Clinton! You’re the frickin’ vice president of the Forsyth County Young Dems! What the hell else are you going to do today? asks my inner voice. Wake up four hours from now and eat a Pop-Tart, I reply. Ah, bullshit, the inner voice says. Get your ass out of bed and go represent.

So, half asleep, I burn a CD with every song I’ve downloaded in the last week – which is why I roll into Raleigh to the tune of Led Zepplin giving way to Melanie…don’t ask – hit Biscuitville and head downstate.

I’m a little anxious because I never actually printed out the directions to the Sheraton Imperial. I just wrote down the exit number and looked at GoogleMaps for 30 seconds or so. Fortunately for me, Exit Ramp 282 leads directly into the parking lot, which is also helpfully marked with signs for everyone who ever thought about running for any office anywhere. It’s not possible that I could be anywhere but the North Carolina State Young Democrats Convention. (Note to the Hillary Clinton campaign people…might want to rethink that sign location right next to the stop sign…unless you really do want people to “STOP Hillary Clinton for President.”)

The registration fee is $25. I’ve got $40 in cash. Now, I’m not a terribly intuitive person, but I had what I can only describe as doubts to the capability of the people at the registration table. Thanks to my line of work, I’ve stood in line at my share of registration tables. It can be a madhouse – people who’ve pre-registered, walk-ins (like me), no one knowing where they’re going. The registration table is where you want your A Team. And…not so much.

They have a basket full of $20 bills and $10 in change. I need $15. It’s 8:54, and the first session starts at 9. I’m visibly fretting. A random staffer offers to track down more change, but he’s gone so long that I finally say to Clueless Reg Table Staffer #1, “Why don’t you just give me the 10, and I’ll call it a $5 donation?” Everybody seems thrilled with this arrangement, especially me.

[You see, I have a serious problem with lateness. It causes me physical pain. Years ago, a therapist suggested that, deep down, I fear that I’m not worthy of waiting on. Entirely plausible…but I think it’s more likely that, deep down, I have serious issues with inconsiderate people who can’t get their sh*t together. Unfortunately, I’m a Democrat, so this is going to come up a time or two. My cross to bear.]

Inexplicable – It’s 8:58, and yet the concourse is packed with people seemingly unconcerned with getting to their session on time. I’m pushing my way through when this young woman in a weather-inappropriate bubble-skirted sundress jumps out at me, saying, “Do you know about Kay Hagan for Senate?” in this Disney-chipper voice. “Yes,” I bark, and keep on walking. (I don’t have time for a sales pitch! Don’t these people know there are sessions to attend???) (Besides, I have issues with Kay Hagan. More on her inappropriately chipper stand-ins later…)

So here I am in the auditorium at 9:05, my session (Peer-to Peer Outreach) having been moved from a smaller room. I know this because a random person wandered by and informed me and the other half-dozen people who’d foolishly assumed that the printed schedule was accurate. Here’s the best part: when I got to Room Whateveritwas, a gaggle of Teen Dems was already there. One had already laid out fliers on every seat (he was running for something, natch). First Random Person tells the kids to move out, we all help Flier Boy gather his stuff with, hopefully, a minimum of crumpling, and the kids shuffle off to some other room.

Then, moments later, yet another Random Person pops his head in and asks, “are y’all here for the session on Peer-to-Peer Outreach?” Now, who woulda thunk that? “That’s in the auditorium. This is the Teen Dems,” Random Person says before disappearing. I can only think about two things: that famous Will Rogers quote, “I don’t belong to any organized party, I’m a Democrat,” and that poor kid who’s going to have to put out all those darned fliers yet again.

Fortunately, the session is worth the wait. Toni Cani, a bona fide gets-paid-for-this staffer from Young Democrats of America, talks to us about the best ways to communicate to the under-35 set. (Gist: we’ve been marketed to all our lives, so we can spot BS a mile a way. Don’t you dare hit us with a sales pitch, i.e. “Do you know about Kay Hagan for Senate?”) I liked.

So here’s what it’s like to be in Session One. Toni starts off by asking us to introduce ourselves, warning us not to do the typical young politico “I worked on this campaign, aren’t I such hot sh*t?” thing – just name, rank and serial number, so to speak, because we’re short on time. He points at me first. So hi, I’m Sara, from Forsyth County. Then it goes around the room. I’m the Official New Hanover County Muckety Muck. Well, I’m the Official Wake County Muckety Muck AND I shop in the same Harris Teeter as John Edwards’s baby-sitter. I’m exaggerating, of course, but you get the idea. I start on time, I follow instructions, I neglect to title/name-check. Obviously I wasn’t cut out for politics.

There’s an actual Hillary Clinton campaign worker at the opposite end of the front row from me. She gets really excited at one of the first questions for Toni, when a woman at the back asks how we, as women, talk about politics without coming off as if we’re lecturing – exact quote: “…without reminding them of their seventh grade English teacher.” (Or, as I record it in my notes, “how to talk to chickensh*t men.” Seriously, welcome to my world.)

It’s a valid question, but one that Toni admits he’s ill-equipped to answer. It seems he was raised in a family of strong women. “I like women in politics,” he says. The Hillary woman is about to rapture.