32 Broadway in
New York City is also the home of the official department of
voter registration for
the city.
Months and months ago before the whole drama ensued it was announced on the news that they would be open until midnight to register new voters on the last day before the deadline. So, having moved into New York just a scant few months before and being the procrastinating sod I can be I'd put it off until late in the game and decided it would be a good idea to be a good citizen and do my civic duty.
To be honest: the fact that the voter registration center was at 32 broadway was a big motivating factor. And did I mention it was Friday the 13th, the full moon, and I'd just put in a week's notice at my frightening job?
All these things added up to me wanting to get jiggy, and 32 broadway has such excellent memories instilled in my brain (see DJ Spacklequeen's writeup above) that I was just convinced this was going to be a happening place.
Oh yeah baby.
So I took the long walk down there, strutting my corporate office digs. I might have even had a tie on...
Walked in the nondescript building, the security guard raised an eyebrow when I told him where I was going. To keep the hype up in my mind I tell myself that's cause I'm dressed all silly - he's used to drugged up college kids in states of undress coming and going and a mad frenzy of powerful energy being issued from their very fibers.
I might have had the latter - I was in a mood.
The elevator was peaceful, which was my first sign of distress... I should be hearing the music by now. Maybe the cops have already come to bust up the gig...
Stepping out of the elevator is the real letdown though. The orb isn't in the corner making a guest appearance, there is no wall of tvs and no visual heaven. Buba Fett has obviously moved on and there's no way in hell I'm getting drugs out of the only guy here: just a sad and lonely old man who's probably volunteered his time on a Friday night.
Where is everybody? I ask him. He just looks at me like I'm crazy.
The form is done in ten minutes. No one comes in while I'm there. I nod at the security guard on my way out. And I'm stunned. Of course I was kidding myself all along about reliving some vague 32 broadway existence - but what the hell, in a city this size the voter registration center is empty on the deadline night? Did America suddenly get responsible and start doing everything in a timely fashion?
Somehow I doubt it. Well, the one nice thing about living right across The Brooklyn Bridge is the walk home - watching the full moon rise over the city is worth a little bit of disenchantment.