Dropping

My job description and tasks here at Taxpayers for Common Sense are coming soon, but at the moment, I'll just let you in on one specific aspect that I find particularly entertaining.

On the Capitol

Of the chores of the intern here at TCS, my favorite thus far is "the drop." The basic principle is simple: when an important bill or piece of legislation is coming to a vote, TCS and any related or allied groups band together to drop off a fact sheet or relevant information at the offices of swing senators or representatives. The handouts vary from the "The sky is falling!" to "Here's info to inform your vote" (TCS sticks to the latter element). It's low on the totem pole in terms of the organization's influence, but it is a good way to introduce staffers to TCS as a resource for getting breakdowns of legislation and the flaws. Since the staffers control access to the rep, it's a good way of making a connection. People from TCS usually do more important things: testify before congress, meet with staff directly or the elected official himself, speak to the media to explain issues or offer quotes, or submit opinion pieces. I don't know the full extent of their efforts, but it spans a broad variety of activities and issues.

The other day, I was assigned my first drop. The question of logging in Alaska, specifically the Tongass National Forest, was swiftly coming to a head. The basic problem is that there isn't a market for the timber in question, and yet hundreds of miles are being built for loggers, at federal expense (and great expense). It's basically a handout to construction companies and a juicy piece of pork for Alaskan legislators. So, me and Sagar (one of the other five interns) were handed a stack of papers and told to me up with an environmental group and case the Capitol with info.

There were enough volunteers that I didn't have to cover more than three floors, eight or so senators offices. My first time on the Hill, I was more than a little stoked. Once we got inside, I couldn't help but laugh. The air of self-importance was so thick you could have swum through it. Everywhere you turned, someone was walking with a measured, dignified tread or jogging with a serious, intensely important trot, all going somewhere. Tour groups led by glowing (unpaid) congressional interns meandered about the halls as their youthful leaders spewed a torrent of knowledge about every nook and cranny. Every person had a suit on and a badge, worn with honor.

The actual offices were even more entertaining. Some were staffed with older, more experienced characters who had clearly seen the campaign trail more than once and weren't interested in the niceties of working in a senator's office. Others were packed with bright-eyed interns, efficient and plastic pleasant, supremely certain that the wheels wouldn't turn without them. Amazing dynamics everywhere one turned.

That's not all that was everywhere you turned. Apparently, legislators don't seem to have learned the lessons of intern scandals of the past, because the young and comely were flitting about from place to place. I wasn't prepared for this and it had nearly disastrous consequences. For instance, walking into one office, staffed by Mississippi natives, I simply hadn't recalled that the young lady behind the desk was going to have a Gone With the Wind accent. I stammered something inchoate and put the paper on her desk.

Another senator's offices, I did a double take while walking in as another intern turned down the hallway. In eminently classy style, I walked directly into the door, a very positive impression to make.

Regardless, beyond the best and brightest of our nation's females, making a drop is a wonderful chance to observe the Washington politico set in their natural habitat. It's a strange beast for a California native, but if the Crocodile Hunter can handle deadly snakes and old crocs, I figure I can keep my wits about me amongst the political jungle. That's all for now. Duty, that is, work, calls.