Promising myself I'd explore Boston in ways I haven't previously, I marched myself to West Roxbury for the Ward 20 caucuses. In the process, I ate some tasty donuts and witnessed a side of Boston I'd only read about in history books.
Passing the threshold from semi-dreary grey daylight to the inside of the West Roxbury Pub brought with it a number of surprises, none of which should have actually been surprising. First was the sheer number of people. There had to be a hundred people crammed into this little function room. At the sign-in desk, I was questioned by a trio of pleasant, preened ladies who needed to know my precinct. I didn’t know what it was, and they were kind enough to look it up for me. While waiting, I was pushed and pressed back and forth by the deluge of democrats coming through the door. Finally, I was given the precinct number and instructed by a friendly middle-aged woman in a red suit who seemed to know what was going on that I was to sign in, take a ballot for female delegates, and move along.
