July 18th

July 18^th

Morning: I woke with clarity, the plan for the next couple of days splayed before me. I needed a day out of bars. I told Glenda that we should abandon our idea of avoiding interstate travel. Nearby I-79 was the quickest route to Erie. After a quick breakfast in Hartstown and a pleasant chat about my campaign with our waitress we made haste for the city of one hundred thousand on the banks of Lake Erie. I tightened my grip about Glenda as she accelerated through traffic; the girl had the speed gene, she thrived on it. We arrived in Erie shortly before noon. Glenda parked in front of Erie County Courthouse and as I moved towards the steps. Taking a page from Jimmy Carter, I would introduce myself as follows: “Hello, my name is Robert and I’m running for president.”

Like Madison, Wisconsin, most responded to me with a sense of suspicion tinged with revulsion.

“Maybe it’s the hat,” Glenda said about my brown wool cap with SEX stitched in red across the brow. I took it off and stowed it in my pocket, the static causing my gray hair to stand.

Glenda’s advice didn’t help my reception. Is it a coincidence that centers of government are where I receive the sharpest rejection? Like Madison, a police officer approached me and told me to move along. Knowing the futility of argument, I complied after extending my hand and introducing myself. “I don’t care if you’re Barack Obama, you can’t stay here, no scram.”

I recited my URL to him before turning and walking away.

“Where to next?”

“The Boston Store.”

Afternoon: Outside the iconic landmark, Glenda and I introduced ourselves to harried shoppers. Only one person gave us any interest. He said he would check out the website and agreed that the major candidates left him listless.

“I need a beer,” Glenda said. I shrugged and walked two blocks to Sherlocks. I stuck to my guns and ordered a 7-up. Inside the bar a friendly bartender introduced us to a couple of locals and we entered into conversation. Lenny, the scoreboard operator at Jerry Ulm stadium, the home of the double A baseball team, said he would throw a surprise entry on the scoreboard during the seventh inning stretch of tonight’s Seawolve’s game.

Evening: I haven’t attended a baseball game in years. The park was nearly sold out and we took our seats and enjoyed the warm evening. True to his word, Lenny scoreboard read: Elect Robert President! Vote Dirty Bum! Help Robert from a cardboard box to the Whitehouse!

On queue, I stood, and shook the hands of those around me, thanking them for their support. I worked up the steps shaking the hands of my fellow fans. Surely, the fans thought it was another publicity stunt of a the publicity stunt laden league.

“I need a shower,” I told Glenda as we left the stadium.

We rode eastbound on I-90 into New York, finally stopping at a cheap motel in Dunkirk. We flipped a coin and I got first dibs at a shower. After I finished, I sat at the desk and wrote a letter thanking Glenda for her help and friendship; that is wasn’t anything personal but it was time for me to move along. As she showered, I slipped out of the room and walked along Dunkirk’s streets to the rail yard.