Howie Storms the State House!

*This work of fiction is based on a true story. I did go to the state house, and some of the other things happened too*

I recently found myself at the Maine State House in Augusta. No, I wasn’t there in relation to chinese pot farms or to bang down doors looking for answers, per se. I was there for an event on behalf of my benevolent employer. I also had about 45 minutes to kill before this event began, and I decided to see what I could get my paws into. 

I parked my car in a place where only legislature affiliated people should’ve parked, just for the thrill of it and to test the ability of the invisible parking monitors to do their job. I sauntered up to the main entrance.

The State House

The majesty and grandeur of the surroundings brought a chill to my skin and a piece of dirt blew into my eye which made me cry.

I made my way through the swiss cheese security checkpoint and began wandering down every hallway imaginable. I reached dead ends on the main floor where little signs read “Legislature Officials Only” or something like that. I made my way up the stairs to a large atrium where many folks were bustling about. I tried to gauge the seriousness of these people. They were chatting, but I couldn’t quite tell what about. I thought I might have heard someone say that the new Greek salad from the cafeteria had too many olives. And then I was sure I heard someone say that their office is too hot to get any work done and their staff can’t get a hold of the maintenance crew. I even saw a person wearing Crocs. Crocs? In the State House? Dang it dude. 

My ultimate destination was the Governor’s Office. And it just so happened that I stumbled right into it. Well, not into it. But right outside. 

The Sign that thwarted my advances

I tried with all my might, but I could not penetrate this sturdy gate. I should have made an appointment!!!!

I waited on a couch right next to the waiting area to see the Governor. There was nobody in the Governor’s waiting area but I was too chicken to hop behind the proverbial red velvet rope. I got bored and left pretty quickly. 

I ran into a guy leaning against a column and asked what the hell his deal was. He said he worked for the Democratic Party in their accounting office. Massive yawn. I did however ask him if he ever saw any funny business while on the job. He promptly said of course not. But, after I pestered him with a few more jabbing questions, he obliged my requests. Apparently the Democratic Party had trained him well, but not too well…

The meat of his stories were basically situations where he had to put a stop to some elaborate plan the politicians would sketch out. They usually involved some sort of pre paid cash card used for campaign expenses or elaborate company event bills. He even mentioned a time that one staffer accidentally booked his boss a flight to Cairo, Egypt instead of Sacramento. What the shit? Talk about a pyramid scheme, am I right?

I had completed my rounds of the building and still had some time before the event began so I walked back outside, snapped a couple selfies with statues in various courtyards, and sat on a bench. 

When it was time to go back in I felt like a regular. I knew which way the doors opened (pull from the outside) and, well, that’s about all I was familiar with.

This second time through the security checkpoint I dealt with quite a tough customer. The guard made me take my belt off. I thought about standing up for my rights and asking them to bring up the footage from 14 minutes earlier when I kept my belt on, all while possibly holding the belt in the air as a threatening show of force, but I decided to stand down and hassled with my belt on the other side of the metal detector.

Their was a press conference during this event. Many confused legislators wandered through the atrium and quickly turned around. The content of this event was apparently not worth their time, trust me, it is. I saw one young looking staffer sweating his bag off in some sort of wool suit. His pants were too short and revealed socks with cursive writing on them. I giggled at the possibilities of the text. 

The bathrooms were pretty nice. Clean enough and they offered two methods of hand drying: paper towels and blow dryers. I used both. The water fountains did not have cold water, my thirst remained only partially quenched. 

Anyways, it was great to get my foot in the door to surveille what the hell goes on in the State House. I have respect for the officials who show up to work every day, but some of the pomp, circumstance, and self importance I observed made me a little queasy. 

My car was just as I’d left it and I departed the capital city with thoughts of a strongly worded letter to the DOJ in my head.