The search for 22,000 friends
a SUIT column by Chris Jungle

During the Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta this year, something strange happened. Something called a mayoral election. Yes, it is less than a year after the big presidential election, and the government still expects the public to choose its officers. Albuquerque has roughly a half a million people, and less than half of those are registered voters. I was in the minority of registered voters in this election because I actually voted. It was estimated that thirty-two percent of registered voters went to the polls to select the new mayor.

In the past, the October mayor election didn't mean too much because they had a run-off election for the top two vote-getters in November. The New Mexico courts somehow decided run-off elections were unconstitutional, and therefore only one election would choose the next mayor. I don't know which part of the constitution abhors two elections for one office, but maybe it is something that could be changed.

What's wrong with having just one election for mayor? Well, in the case of Albuquerque, there were seven official candidates, and since there would only be one election, the one with the most votes would win regardless of the margin. As a result, the winner, Jim Baca, took away twenty-nine percent of the total with less than 22,000 votes. I voted for Jim and if there had been a run-off election, I probably would have voted for him again, but something didn't seem quite right about it.

22,000 votes. 22,000 people. 22,000 friends. If I had 22,000 friends, I could have been mayor of Albuquerque. It wouldn't have mattered if I had stood well on the issues, or if I had a scandalous affair with my campaign director, or if I announced to the world that I drink my coffee black. With 22,000 friends, I could have won the election. Friends would have registered to vote and cast my name regardless of what I did. That's what friends are for.

I wouldn't even have to be good friends with the voters. Just good enough to get them to stop doing their daily grind of work, television, and trendy moderate-priced restaurants for a half an hour while they go down to their precinct to punch an orange dot by my name in the electronic tabulator. Heck, I'd even vote for myself. Down to 21,999.

When did voting become unimportant? When I turned eighteen, I did everything seventeen-year-olds weren't allowed to do. I left my parents' home, I donated blood, and I voted. Maybe the question shouldn't be why aren't people voting, but what are people doing instead? Is there something really cool going on that I'm not privy to, or is anyone who uses the word 'privy' excluded from the cool crowd? The election was on a Tuesday, the bars were closed during voting hours, the Braves-Marlins game didn't get started until after six, the weather was nice, balloons were in the air, and voting traffic was light. What were people doing with their time that was so engrossing they couldn't vote?

Some people said they didn't like any of the candidates, so they weren't going to vote at all. Did they think if they didn't vote, no one would get elected? That's like thinking if we all close our eyes, all of the problems in the world go away. I like a fantasy as much as anyone, but I try not to involve politics in it.

Deep down, I know low voter turnout is a result of laziness and lack of interest. Voting isn't hip or cool or chewbacca fly. It's just one of those civic duties that no one forces us to do but is one of the few times the government lets us express our personal interests into the political system. But very few care, and it's not because there's something better to do, or some huge protest against elections, or some pagan orgy taking place during voting hours. That's a shame because I probably wouldn't vote either if a twelve hour ring of debauchery was going on instead.

Not too many folks votes any more, but that may turn out to work in my favor. There's four more years until the next mayor election, and I can start making friends now. 22,000 friends in four years, 5500 a year, 459 a month, which makes about 15 new friends a day. It seems easy. Almost too easy. I could make new friends at the movie theaters, bowling alleys, car dealerships, bars, the Rolling Stones concert, UNM football and basketball games, coffee shops, record stores, bookstores, expensive restaurants, McDonalds, and anywhere people hang out. Of course, I'd stay away from voting precincts. Nobody goes there.

Chris Jungle voted for all of the local bond issues because bonds are usually the only money the local government is willing to spend on the public.

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