A daydream dances into mind to the tune of "Hey, Hey, the Gang's All Here" as I read newspapers, watch TV and surf the Internet to get a fix on this year's presidential election.
Joe Six Pack nurses his third beer and his cousin, Joe Camel, takes another drag on his cigarette. His pet pot-bellied pig rests at his feet. It is wearing lipstick.
A hockey mom strolls into the restaurant with her young son. Her twin, a soccer mom, follows with a young daughter, still in practice uniform.
A black man carrying his slim laptop and a New York Times walks in and heads over to the wireless section where three mounted TVs are tuned into CNN, FOX, and MSNBC. He is wearing a blue monogrammed dress shirt. The middle initial is "H."
"Does that "H" on your shirt stand for "Hussein," the hockey boy asks wide-eyed.
"Are you a terrorist?" the soccer girl wants to know.
A 70-something white-haired guy, walking stiffly, trudges in with a Wall Street Journal. Someone cracks an age joke, though everyone in town knows he walks that way because of Vietnam War and POW injuries.
A blonde wearing a royal blue pant suit enters next and joins a woman in a bright red dress at a table in the no-smoking section. Within minutes, they are laughing over pre-election "Saturday Night Live" skits posted on YouTube.
Welcome to the Presidential Election Show 2008, the newest reality show, in the Brave, Brazen, Blog-filled World of American Politics.
The TVs at the back of the restaurant blare as news commentators opine on today's version of the bailout story, wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the growing disparity between rich and poor.
They interview reporters and "experts" of all political persuasion who get into rude, loud arguments in a race for the last word.
The bartender, mercifully, turns all three sets off. No one complains.
Now everyone can hear the folks at the big round table in the middle of this Main Street restaurant. A banker, real estate saleswoman, stockbroker, car dealer and local merchants are sitting at the community table listening glumly as the bankruptcy attorney chats about her day at the office.
The waitress looks worried. Her boss had to let someone go today and she's got to work this shift alone. She counts her tips again, trying to figure out how she's going to pay for groceries, rent and gas now that her husband's building job just dried up.
Reality sets in. The daydream is over. Joe Camel turns all three televisions back on.
Don't forget to vote on Nov. 4. It does matter -- always.
Loraine Anderson can be reached at 933-1468 or landerson@record-eagle.com
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