November 5
[b]Hawaii County, Hawaii[/b]

Bridget lay back in her wicker recliner; the white paint was faded and chipping. She closed her eyes and felt as the sun mercilessly beat against her skin as the waves pound onto the beach. The wind wavered between the smells of fruit - pineapple, mango, coconut - and the subtle odor of the sea breeze. A cool current drifts shapelessly across her form, drawing goosebumps along in its wake. Her soft rhythmic breathing was being silhouetted against a crimson Hawaiian sunset. The robust curves of maternity made themselves apparent, concealed none by a bathing suit that would send a nun into an anaphylactic fit.

The soft, lulling tropical aura was broken by the sound of sand being shuffled underfoot.

A gruff masculine voice called out, “Hey there, Senator.”

Bridget strained to look over her shoulder at the sound of the voice, knowing full well who owned it. She smiles a bit and turned about to look out over the ocean, “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, husband."

“Yeah, you too.”

Bridget’s husband, Ronald, is a tall caucasian man of roughly six foot, he has a scraggly beard and unkempt hair that makes him resemble a castaway more than the spouse of a U.S. congresswoman. He bent over, planting a kiss on her lips before standing up beside her. His hand rubbed idly over her shoulder.

“Let’s get inside. It’s about to start.”

“Yeah, alright,” she sighed as she stumbled to her feet with the help of her mate. She smiled and kissed him softly and followed him into their humble abode - a ninety by ninety foot bungalow, central heating, running water, the works. The two settled down on a wide wicker couch, painted white like the recliner but in considerably better condition. A large bulky television, dating back at least twenty years, rested on an even more dated cabinet. It screened updates on the presidential election. The two watched as result after result poured out of the television screen, though they were much more focused on mundane flirting than the election. At the end, when the results were in and Norman had assumed the throne of the most powerful man on Earth, the two had already retired to the bedroom to do the horizontal bop.

The morning haze masked most recollection of the events that had transpired the last night, though a quick glance at the news channel made the election results evident. The familiar scent of cheeseburger wafted throughout the bungalow; accompanied by the sounds of a muffled stereo. 

Cheeseburger in Paradise.

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December 26
[b]Honolulu International Airport, Honolulu, Hawaii[/b]

After a brief farewell rendezvous, Bridget was finally on her way to catch her 9:00 A.M congressional flight from Honolulu to Washington. She flashed her congressional I.D. to the men at the airport security and walked idly down the terminal to her gate; as expected, she was the first - and only - congressman on the 9:00 A.M. The Representative looked around the first-class cabin of the airliner. It was fairly spacious, as spacious as an airplane could be. The seats reclined and were surprisingly comfortable; she had almost forgotten the feel of luxury that came with living and working in Washington. Beside her was an empty seat, likely reserved by one of the other congressmen who had planned on flying out on one of the other flights that they had booked.

Bridget felt her body being pushed back into the seat gently by the force of the plane taking off. The muffle roar of the engines could be heard, even here. When the captain announced that the plane was stable she reclined her seat as far back as it could go and closed her eyes in a futile attempt to relax. She was far too eager to get back into the chamber.

Coming to the realization that her attempts to sleep were in vain, Bridget sat up and focused her attention on the in-flight movie, [i]Gone With the Wind[/i] - an unfortunate title to be playing on an airliner. The movie was little more entertaining than the dead-silent flight and by the end waitstaff were journeying the aisles with dishes stacked on carts; a full two course lunch was placed in front of her - chicken marsala and angel hair pasta accompanied with a full bottle of California red, which she stowed away for later. After her meal, she soon fell back into the sleep that had so easily eluded her before until she was jostled by the battle-cries of economy class, who were applauding the plane's safe landing on the tarmac of Ronald Reagan National Airport.

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December 26
[b]Ronald Reagan National Airport, Washington D.C.[/b]

At the gate her congressional aide Neil O’Conner, a spritely young man in his mid-twenties with closely cropped hair that gives off a business casual look. He holds a sign in large Sharpie letters - Melika. As he sees her stumble off the plane, suffering from a dreadful case of jet lag. The two walk for a short while before Neil speaks up,

“Welcome back to Washington, rep.”

“Yeah, it’s good to be back.”

“You’ve got a pile of bill propositions stacked up, they’re on your desk.”

“And you have a bottle of wine, on me.”

“You’re not going to- oh, yeah.”

Bridget hands him the pilfered bottle of wine and holds one arm under her stomach and one hand above it.

“My bags?”

“Gerald is getting them now.”

“Good, good.”

“I booked you a suite at The Hay-Adams.”

“Alright, I’ll be in the office tomorrow.”

They had reached her taxi by now, the bags were almost finished being loaded up. Bridget slipped into the backseat of the cab as Neil held it open for her, she waved out the window as the car sped off to the Hay-Adams. Her room was modest for a 5-star suite. It resembled a studio apartment, the king-size bed overlooked a small ensemble of living chairs arranged around a television set. The bathroom was even more compact than at her home on the Big Island. But it was more than enough for a woman of modest taste.

The bellhop brought her bags up the suite and deposited them beside the bed. She thanked him and tipped him graciously before falling back onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling. After a short time she rolled over to her side and looked out the window over the White House lawn before falling back into a dinner-less sleep.

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January 3
[b]House Chamber, Washington D.C.[/b]

After a week of menial housekeeping work, the day finally came for the first session of the House. As she stepped into the chamber, she found it nearly empty except for a few representatives from California and one from Iowa. Within the next hour the floor was flooded with commotion as fresh-faced representatives and familiar faces filled the chamber - some literally tripping over each other. She looked on with bemusement until the Clerk started off the procession. 

“…Let the voting commence.”

She sighed and looked down at her desk. A slip of paper and a fountain pen were provided for the ballot - knowing full well the futility of her vote against the republican majority she picks up the pen and inks on it [b][i]’Present'[/i].[/b]