The last couple of weeks have been a bizarre whirlwind of political activity in our normally quiet little corner of the United States.

Many of you probably didn't even know that you were in New York's 23rd Congressional District, but man, did the national media ever make that obvious.

In most congressional election cycles, 435 seats are open and contested in the House of Representatives. This year, however, the special election to fill departed John McHugh's seat was the only game in town. The fightin' 23rd District essentially had the election all to itself, and its cast of characters got more press coverage in a week than McHugh did in 16 years of office.

Every major news outlet in the country ran stories on the civil war that broke out in the Republican party, giving a Democrat the chance to win the seat for the first time since the real Civil War.

Political heavyweights and talking heads spoke every day about the 23rd as if they'd ever been there or could point it out on a map. Outrageous and silly attack ads hit the airwaves and the Internet — the kind we don't usually get to see and hear.

Normally, my vote doesn't seem to matter much. In presidential elections, New York votes for Democrats. In congressional elections, our district always votes Republican. What's the point?

But the crazy stuff that made this a national phenomenon suddenly made my vote seem sacred. First, the conservatives attacked Republican Dede Scozzafava so hard that most registered voters now firmly believe that she is Nancy Pelosi's slightly more liberal life partner.

When Scozzafava dropped out of the race, that seemed to guarantee a conservative victory, but when she for some reason didn't embrace the campaign that burned her in effigy — and proceeded to endorse Democrat Bill Owens — the election was back in play.

In the three days before the election, I probably received four-dozen political phone calls. A few were from actual humans who wanted to encourage me to vote — and wanted to give me crucial information about the candidates' personal hygiene.

Most, however, were celebrity robo calls. Sarah Palin, Sens. Chuck Schumer and Kirsten Gillibrand, Bill Clinton, George Pataki, Rudy Giuliani, Chuck Norris, Fred Thompson, Barack Obama, Joe Biden, Alex Rodriguez, Paris Hilton, Malia Obama. Every 10 minutes, it was a different personal phone call from someone I never thought would call me.

One afternoon, Mr. Spock phoned me from the future, and another galaxy, and urged me to make the only logical decision.

Even a polling firm called me, because they cared, they really cared, who I was going to vote for. I lied and said Optimus Prime, which is why they factor in a margin for error — and probably why two major polls got the election wrong.

Because of this election, our area was visited by the vice president of the United States "¦ and possibly former Vice President Dick Cheney as well, though it's impossible to be sure, since his mastery of the dark side of the Force allows him to wipe any memory of his passage from our minds.

Our doorknobs and mailboxes were filled with flyers on every candidate, every day — enough to deforest at least 100 acres of the Adirondacks.

Real-life human beings knocked on my door and asked me to vote, though only about half of them were willing to bribe me to vote for their candidate.

In the end, it didn't really matter who won the election; the process itself was intoxicating. I must have more.

Next election cycle, I'm moving to a swing state. I hear that Indiana is nice in November. Virginia is always lovely. What are the property values in Missouri?

Now that I've had a taste, I don't want my vote taken for granted again. I want to be courted by Sarah Palin. I want to do man-on-the-street interviews with CNN. I want to matter.

E-mail Steve Ouellette at: ouellette1918@gmail.com