Santa Barbara's Finest pt. 1

When I say the words, ‘election day’ what comes to mind?

Politics? Freedom? The greatest tradition in confusing democratic practice?

Those are all typical responses from the cookie-cutter, Texas based textbook teachings type I’d expect to be reading this blog. A blog that by all means is grounds for any constitutional lawyer to reverse Amendment I. But after I finish this story you’ll know why election-day is synonymous with arrogance, suffering and a disregard for all levels of reason.

November 2, 2004. I was in a news writing class at Santa Barbara City College and I had to cover the election for my class. I attended party for democrats downtown. I was actually just covering the representative race, but the Bush Kerry race was dominating the mood.

When I got home I pulled out my laptop, the same one I write this story on now. It was about 1:30 a.m. and I had written my article, with only a need for a quick run-through edit to catch any more errors. All of a sudden, all of my roommates busted through the door, drunk as a group of Italians on Columbus Day.

They had apparently been partying at the students’ apartments, not far from where we lived. They were all covered in light, ashy soot. They had been trashing some dudes’ apartment who had recently heard that his deposit was ‘not fucking his anymore.’

Three days later we had a party at our house. Trust me, it wasn’t to celebrate Bush’s victory. A lot of random people showed up to the house, which was normal, but one dude with the most prominent and ridiculous bird nose was bothering EVERYBODY. Kicking in the bathroom door, talking shit and then walking off, scaring hot chicks away, this type of guy, while generally hilarious, is also generally unwelcome in our house.