Boston, Massachusetts;
a liberal bastion for most of my lifetime, home of the Kennedy’s, the base for
the error strewn campaign of John Kerry (made running against Bush 43 look
harder than it should’ve been). But in a strange twist it is also the
birthplace of American freedom from oppression; the blacksmith Paul Revere and
his famous ride that signaled the start of the American war of Independence,
the Tea party protest over taxation without representation (the genesis of
which prompts modern day debates on big vs. small government and American self
sufficiency).
The second
reason Boston was a good choice was that as the home of the Tea party this
election would be defined by what Republican candidate Romney referred to as “gifts”.
In political terms a debate about big vs. small government, in economic terms
it was about the 47% (Romney’s term) of the country that wanted something from government
vs. the rest that were self sufficient. Or indeed on a human level this
election was about the equity of the current system and the ethics of
withholding state aid from those in need of it most. I don’t want this to be a political
essay, or indeed an overtly political story. This is essentially about the
drive from Boston Logan airport to a small town on the Canadian border in the
state of New Hampshire called Dixville Notch. But I guess the context of the
trip helps?
Having gone
from terminal building to transport bus to hire car company, we’d met half a
dozen people and engaged them in conversation, not one of which were or had
ever voted Democratic! I was beginning to get nervous about Obama’s chances if
we could meet people at all levels of the economic spectrum but not find a
supporter of his…. Maybe he had alienated the country? Having spent time in
Pittsburgh last year I was able to correctly predict the route our journey
would take. Leaving Boston on a bumpy under maintained four lane highway, the
signs of a metropolis were clear; concrete over passes, a mish mash of
interconnecting highways with houses seemingly crammed onto slip roads, SUVs
jostling to primacy over-cutting and undercutting to gain small advantages on
the commute back to suburbia. As we moved through place names that resembled
the English home counties; Cambridge, Winchester, Andover, we saw a small
reduction in traffic and in lane numbers (now down to 3). On crossing the
border into New Hampshire we got our first taste of the eccentricities of the
north country. “Live free, or die” proclaimed the state we were about to enter,
including reminders that we were now allowed to exercise that freedom by not
wearing a seatbelt…. Damn those lily livered liberals in Massachusetts and their
concern for our welfare. Ant and I chose to buckle up, but I guess as we chose
this we were in compliance with the state motto.
Once past
Manchester we were treated to the well known beauty of New Hampshire. Down to
two lanes now, we were just about able to make out acres of forest on either
side of the highway as the sun plummeted below the horizon. Even though it was
only 6pm the darkness of the night sky and rural environs made it feel much
more like 10pm or even midnight. Down to one lane and warnings of moose 500yds
ahead. How the local transportation police knew with such certainty that a
series of permanent signs were appropriate I don’t know. Luckily we didn't have
an encounter with a moose to verify the accuracy of their claims. Quickly off
the beaten track, through a range of literal one horse towns that pepper the
rural New Hampshire roads. Typically a Rite Aid (equivalent of Boots), a
tavern, a church and maybe a dozen houses to provide customers for this local
economy. As we traveled further and further north we kept a regular check on
the temperature gauge, dropping from a positively balmy 60 degrees in Boston,
now down below freezing (32 degrees) which was confirmed by the constant interruptions
of snow drifts; making visibility tough but not impossible.
Having
exhausted the charms of talk radio exalting the clear landslide victory for
Romney that was just around the corner, we stopped off in one of the Rite Aid’s
in a one horse town, for a stretch, take on some fluids and a cheeky packet of
M&Ms. One more hour of driving brought us into deep forest, and more snow
drifts. And finally after four hours of driving we reach our destination; an RV
park on top of a hill in the middle of nowhere. No lights, no sound, no people,
seemingly no wildlife either. On arrival we were greeted by a 6ft tall bear of
a man who was the guest house owner, a full shock of white and grey hair atop
his head and the hard worn complexion of an outdoors man, indeed just the sort
of chap who wouldn't take to kindly to two office workers. He welcomed us in
and immediately assumed we were reporters coming to write copy on the oddity of
the Dixville Notch democratic electoral process. Conversation moved too quickly
for two guys who had been cooped up in a Toyota Camry for 4 hours, and so we
forgot to set him straight.
Drawing into the
car park, we saw two imposing satellite trucks positioned to broadcast the
results live nationally. We approached the building with great trepidation, after
all we had no accreditation and were simply two British tourists. There was no
one on the door, but a sign advising us not to campaign for a candidate beyond
this point. We walked up the hall to the main room of the hunting lodge and
encountered our first and only resistance. The coordinator of the election
warmly welcomed us, advised us to not get in the way of the camera’s or the
cordoned off “VIP” area for the 10 voters and suggested we help ourselves to
the chocolate brownies and coffee provided in what usually was the bar area.
Needless to say we were both flabbergasted! Front row seats, alongside the
global news media!
Needless to
say it was very surreal, we had a reporter speaking live to Piers Morgan on
CNN, the AFP making frantic stabs at their computer keyboard, the University of
New Hampshire student news paper took our names to add to a human interest
story that they were doing, and local State senate candidate Jeff Woodburn
overseeing the results that hopefully would kick start his entry into public
office. My excitement was further enhanced by the results the first time they
had seen a tie in the history of the vote. This also made me glum, as having
watched live the Redskins beaten by the Panthers (an election week bad omen for
sitting presidents), not encountered a single Democrat in Massachusetts, and
now witnessed a tie I was more than nervous about the President’s chances of
re-election. I needn't have been concerned, as it all appeared to be over by 9pm and confirmed just after 11:18 that evening.
Throughout
the trip I was taking video with the occasional commentary here are some of the
highlights
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