By John Hubbuch
So Marsha and I are in line to order lunch at Erik's last week. I notice an older balding gentleman in a nice suit eating a grilled cheese. He has some papers spread out on the table, and he's talking on his cell phone. Then I notice at a seperate table a big dude with one of those curly-wired things in his ear. Then it dawns on me that the older guy is Governor Pat Quinn.
Now I'm about as cynical as anyone about politics. I advise people not to vote. But I do think that it's very cool that the governor is eating his lunch by himself at the same inexpensive restaurant as I am. Just a regular guy.
Marsha and I debate whether we should say anything on our way out. Before I know it she's gone over and introduced herself. I don't want to seem unfriendly, so I tag along. As we leave I tell the governor that it's very cool that he's eating lunch at Erik's , and as a result I will vote for him for any race he ever chooses to be a candidate. He looked at me to see if I was joking, but I meant every word.
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