I'm one of those annoying people you see on the #10 bus disguised as a campaign billboard. I wear my John Kerry baseball hat, Kerry pins, and bright red "Real Deal" bumper stickers everywhere I go. There isn't a bus driver between Capitol Hill and First Avenue who hasn't listened to me recite my Kerry sermon. I even have his stump speech down: "I have a message for the current administration: We're coming (thumb jerk), you're going (finger point), and don't let the door hit you on the way out (sweeping hand gesture). I can quote Kerry on everything from his policy positions on the Iraq war (for a Kerry supporter, that's a lot of positions to memorize) to his thoughts on the Boston Red Sox. I even took a long weekend from my job at Group Health on Capitol Hill and went to Iowa at my own expense to volunteer for Kerry in January.

The first time I heard John Kerry's name was in 1996. He was facing a challenge from popular Republican Governor William Weld for his U.S. Senate seat. I was at Providence College in Rhode Island at the time and my roommate Amy, a political-science major who had just been assigned Kerry's book, was glued to the televised debates. Amy said, "Watch him. He's going to be president someday." So, when Kerry declared, I took interest. I liked what he had to say about reproductive rights, gun control, and the environment (he founded the first Earth Day in Massachusetts). The pro-Dean media had written Kerry off, but I joined his Seattle campaign last fall. I did whatever was necessary, including singing Kerry Christmas carols at the 43rd District Dems' holiday party.

I live on Capitol Hill--"Dean country." So when I attended my caucus, I was prepared for the worst: Deaniacs--who believe you don't need substance if you have passion--passing out the Kool-Aid at the door.

However, the first vote was split between Kerry and Dean. The uncommitted voters listened to both camps. With 400 people scrunched into a church basement (about 10 precincts were crammed into one room, fighting amongst themselves), it was easy to segue from speaking loudly into yelling; that's my excuse, anyway, for yelling at an elderly Deaniac about Dean's sealed gubernatorial records. "How can you support someone who comes into an election already concealing his past? I'm appalled by what I do know about him (pro-death-penalty, pro-NRA)--I can't imagine what he's hiding!"

Despite my screaming, there was no big changeover. Final tally for my precinct: three for Kerry and three for Dean.

Later that day, I celebrated. Despite Capitol Hill (Kool-Aid land went 458 to 379 for Dean), the statewide numbers were 7,060 Dean and 11,397 Kerry--the man who will be president.