Memory

 It was before I moved here, to this town, and still lived over across the river in the college town that this story began.  

I was at the Farmer's Market and a man had a table set up.   John Smith, a local man, was running for President.  I chatted with him.   Finally I told him if he makes it to high office, may I please be appointed Minister of Cats.   He laughed, and invited me to a fundraiser he was having a week or two out, over by the fairgrounds.

I could walk to the Fairgrounds from where I lived then.  It was about two miles but I walked a lot back then.  I kind of forgot the event and that I had promised to attend (I take promises seriously even though I knew he wouldn't remembere me).    I remembered last minute and headed over, only to find massive numbers of cars parked in the large lot and crowds.  I heard music inside and got in line to go in.  

I was a little confused, as I got, with admission fee, two free beer tastes at the numerous booths all selling alcohol from local breweries.   Oh my, I thought, this is a fun candidate.  And there was a band, rock and roll, my favorite.   I had my two beers and then hit the dance floor, with a little guilt, that I quickly vanquished.  No Presidential candidate in sight.  

I had a grand night of it, dancing with all  sorts of people, one of whom told me "you are a wild woman, a free spirit" which gave me a thrill and made me dance even longer.

The next day, I found the campaign website for John Smith and emailed them that was sure some kind of fun fundraiser they put on last night but I hadn't seen the candidate.   I got a terse email back.   You were at the beerfest.  Our event was behind it.

Ooops.