Political Science 101

Chapter Five

AS RAY SAT in his car with the engine running, ready to leave the parking lot of Mitch's townhouse, he contemplated and understood his complex friendship with Dr. Mitchell Bradley. He understood what Mitch meant about teaching. Mitch taught him so much. Three years ago when Mitch walked into his office and suggested this crazy idea, he never thought it would have manifested into this. As he sat in his driver's seat, revving his engine, warming his heater as it still blew moderately cool air from the vents of his Mercedes from the previous model year, he humbly understood that he owed his victory to the mind and efforts of his lifelong friend.

He reminisced about the day Mitch convinced him to run for office.

He reminisced about his political campaign.

He reminisced about winning a campaign with his friend.

* * * * * * *

"Lunch?" Mitch said cheerfully as he crooked his head around a half-open door and into the office of civil rights attorney Ray Doyle.

"Seriously?" Ray said as he looked up from the endless stacks of briefs he was studying. He hated this part of the job, but being one of the most well-known civil rights attorneys in the Midwest was, as Ray felt, well-worth the hours of reading through paperwork.

"Let's go; we need to talk," Mitch uttered quickly. "Your clients can wait."

"My clients?" Ray shot back. "What about your students? Don't you have class?"

"Eh, I canceled class," Mitch said casually. "I can do that. I have tenure." The amount of mischievousness in Mitch's smile was only matched by his tone-of-voice.

"Fine, just let me finish this," Ray said, pleasantly annoyed by his friend. "What's this 'Idea' you have?"

Mitch stepped all the way into the office and closed the door behind him, tip-toeing toward Ray's desk like Odysseus, afraid to awaken the Cyclopes. Ray glanced up and gave Mitch an odd look.

"Remember," Mitch whispered, "that time in college when we got hammered with those two girls from Georgetown during Spring Break in Panama City?

"Why are we whispering?" Ray asked in a mocking whisper of his own.

"Shhh!" Do you remember what we talked about?" Mitch became comically insistent.

"Um, no," Ray replied. "I remember talking to two very hot girls from Georgetown, I was wasted, you were wasted, you scored, I didn't." Ray was talking normal now, back to sifting through documents.

"Come on, man," Mitch said, sounding a bit deflated. "One of them asked us what it would take for us to visit D.C. and I said that the only way we'd set foot in D.C. was if one of us had been elected to Congress." Mitch paused. "Remember now?"

"Oh, yeah," Ray said with a half-reminiscent grin, "vaguely." Then, Ray froze. He knew Mitch well enough to know this line of questioning had to be going somewhere. A sudden smile appeared on Ray's face. "Wait, are you going to run for office?" Ray asked Mitch, waiting for the response he expected, but not getting it.

"Nope," Mitch said with cheerful staccato. "You are."

"D.C.?" Ray said, an octave higher than his normal speaking voice. "I think not, bro."

"No, Jeff City, then D.C." Mitch stood up. "You will grow up to be Congressman Doyle!"

Ray was not mirroring Mitch's enthusiasm. "Why don't you run for office, Mr. PolySci PhD?" He did not look up from his stack of papers as he spoke.

"Because I'm not electable," Mitch replied. "You are!" Mitch paused. "I'm just another liberal academic know-it-all, but you're a well-respected civil rights attorney. People will think I'm just an over-educated elitist, but they'll see you as a grassroots man of the people!"