I used to be a Bernie delegate here in Alabama — but then I switched. Super Tuesday is full of people like me

Pollsters hate people like me — and I've switched five times, and donated to six candidates — but there are a lot of us voting this week. Anything could happen

I'm a seventh-generation Alabama native who has never lived anywhere else. I know what y'all think of my state.

If America were a family, Alabama would be the drunken uncle who hijacks every family event with his wacky conspiracy theories and inappropriate gifts. “Uncle Alabama” gave us George Wallace, Jeff Sessions, and Mo Brooks. He played constitutional chicken with the Supreme Court and broke the Voting Rights Act. He almost elected Roy Moore to the US Senate.

It's often hard to be a Democrat here. Nevertheless, we persist.

Alabama is a deep “red state,” but it's not monochrome. Bright blue dots of progressive voters shine defiantly across Alabama. There’s more light here than people realize.

President Trump's election galvanized a new generation of progressive political activists, and they're bringing tremendous energy and excitement to this presidential primary. The newcomers skew younger and feel a fierce urgency about the future.

Andrew Cryer, 21, of Huntsville hopes to be a Bernie Sanders delegate. He's the only “Generation Z” candidate running in his district. Cryer worries that his generation “will inhabit a dying world and raise children under the realities of climate change.” He hopes older voters will “listen to the concerns of the next generation of Democrats, who will live to see the consequences of this election for years to come.”

Huntsville's Elaine Atha took a semester off from college to intern for Elizabeth Warren's campaign. “I can love my state and want more from it at the same time. I have to be actively involved in helping make the big structural changes that working class people and families need,” she told me.

Presidential campaigns always bring high drama, but this year especially intense. Other than Bloomberg's army, campaigns have few paid staffers in the state. Undaunted, supporters took up the slack with a burst of self-organizing. These new activists are learning it as they go.

Michael Shelton, 48, of Leeds, supported Buttigieg. A regular voter “who sometimes crossed party lines,” he's never been an activist or run as a delegate — until now. “This election is too important to sit on the sidelines,” he insists. “We have to defeat this president, keep control of the House, and win the Senate.”

Although each campaign has hardcore, committed supporters, there’s a large number of undecided voters. Buttigieg and Klobuchar's withdrawal has scrambled the race even more. Terrified of making a mistake, voters are briefly flirting with various candidates, always looking for “The One” who can win. Think of it as electoral speed-dating.

I’m guilty. In 2016, I was a Bernie Sanders delegate. This year, my promiscuous political choices have drawn some side-eyes from my Bernie buddies. I've switched candidates five times in nine months and donated to six different candidates. I still don’t know who will ultimately get my primary vote.

Pollsters hate people like me, but there are a lot of us voting on Super Tuesday. Anything could happen.

Alabama's open primary increases the uncertainty. With no party registration, voters can choose either party’s ballot. Some Alabama Democrats plan to take a cue from President Trump. They hope to cause mischief by voting in the Republican Senate primary.

One group hopes to boost Democratic Senator Doug Jones’ re-election chances by voting for the “weakest” Republican. The other faction has given Jones up for dead. They plan to support the “least offensive” Republican in the primary, assuming Doug Jones will lose to any Republican. Neither group has coalesced around a single candidate, so nobody knows if either strategy will influence the outcome.

No discussion of the Alabama primary is complete without a gimlet-eyed glance across the aisle. In the rest of the country, Knives Out is a movie title. For Alabama's Republican Senate candidates, it's a campaign strategy.

Weary voters have endured a relentless barrage of nasty TV and digital attack ads. To compare these closing arguments to a series of schoolboy insults is insulting to schoolboys.

Congressman Bradley Byrne: “Democrats hate religion and God almost as much as President Trump hates Jeff Sessions.”

Former Senator and (fired) Attorney General Jeff Sessions: “Vote for me because I love President Trump and have low self-esteem. Also, he can't fire Senators!”

Former Auburn football coach Tommy Tuberville: “Vote for me because football! And I believe that God sent us Donald Trump.”

That last part is actually believable. We all know that Donald Trump isn't a great fit for heaven.

In the end, President Trump, the consummate Divider-in-Chief, has created some unity here. The possibility of his re-election ignites an existential fear for the country. Although Alabama Democratic voters may have their primary favorites, most vow to “vote blue no matter who” in November.