Super Tuesday

Today is Super Tuesday. It is also Pancake Day. These two things have nothing to do with each other, but they certainly do make it a special day. Let me explain.

Pancake Day is the name by which Mardi Gras is known here. You see, the weather is generally much too iffy here in February for drunken mobs to revel in the streets. That sort of thing is much more suited to summer, so the Notting Hill Carnival is conveniently scheduled for the August bank holiday. So today, instead of parades and string bands and public intoxication and the inevitable nudity that attends it, they have pancakes. Hence Pancake Day. It's much more civilized, though not nearly as much fun.

Super Tuesday, on the other hand, is wholly American. It's the day on which both the Republican and Democratic parties hold nearly half of the state primaries. Some of the more civic-minded of you will be shocked to learn that, among all of the considerations surrounding moving here (where to live, how to get to work, will I ever see my stuff again), we never once considered how we might vote whilst living abroad. This may be because we seldom voted whilst living in the US.

However, today, I was seized with a sudden and inexplicable need to cast my ballot for the next Democratic interviewee for the job of Most Powerful Person In The World. OK, so voting in a primary isn't exactly the same as voting in the actual election, but I think it's ironic that my sense of civic duty seems to have been heightened dramatically by living outside the cosy confines of the good old U.S. of A.

And so it was with high spirits that Michele set out from Wimbledon, children in tow, to meet me in deepest, darkest, poshest London, where Democrats Abroad was holding a primary election, just for us ex pats. How, you might ask, does that work? Apparently, and the Democratic Convention, there are 51 delegations - one from each state, and one from the DA. There are 22 DA delegates, which isn't all that many, really, but hey, every little bit helps.

At first, all was well. We arrived at the venue without incident, though there was a substantial queue, the event having just begun. Inside, though, was mayhem. Last election, the Democrats Abroad organization hired a hall for 400. This time, there were probably 400 people in line with us 5 minutes after the doors opened. Had we registered? No. OK, go stand in that line. 40 minutes later, the children and me both needing a drink, we had the precious ballots in our hands and were ready to cast our vote for party and country. But where to deposit the ballots? Ah, therin lies the rub. Up several flights of stairs we were told. This was not the best arrangement for people with two small children and a stroller. Bright idea - I'll take both ballots and Michele can take the kids outside to consort with the news crews and hopefully get a little airtime.

Of course, as you might imagine, one person submitting two ballots caused something of a stir amongst the hair-and-voice-made-for-politics election monitors. Incredibly, in the First World, one person is only allowed to submit one ballot. This despite my having asked the competent-sounding vounteers manning the registration station downstairs, and having received enthusiastic permission from said staffers. There may also have been a certain amount of reluctance to allow me to vote twice because there were camera crews everywhere around me as I turned in my ballot. In the end, I ended up just dropping Michele's into a box marked 'Ballots' on my way out.

Back home, children in bed, Michele and I tucked into our very English curry and decided that yes, it had indeed been a super Tuesday. Even without the pancakes. Let's hope our guy wins.