I was quite surprised when my dad assented to the proposed trip to South Dakota—he said that I’d be going away for college soon enough and a trip would be good. A step back, of sorts, one of those legendary "letting go" moves to prove to both him and me that college wouldn’t be that awful, that I’m an independent woman.

I was still endowed with that timeless spirit of competence and confidence when I asked the ACLU to fund my trip. I knew they were spiriting away a few others for the same cause and the person my email correspondences were directed to told me it wouldn’t be a problem, and that they had set aside a significant sum for this purpose.

Everything was arranged — a flight, board — and they needed only the name of my school. Unfortunately Marlborough School doesn’t sound like a reputable college that hosts the 18+ crowd, and I was promptly notified that the ACLU couldn’t fund minors.

Within the week I’d have to find another organization to buy me a plane ticket and a hotel room, so I naturally turned to Choice USA. Although I know Joy, Choice USA's Program Associate, argued hard on my behalf, a week isn’t much notice for even the most benevolent of organizations and ticket prices had almost doubled.

My dad eventually found a way to use his miles and Choice USA was lined up to provide general financial and logistical support so I was in the maze of lines at LAX, on my way to South Dakota.

After a stop in Denver and a trip on a puddle-jumper, I got off the plane, awkwardly, with my bags all juggled and see this man holding a big "No on 6" sign. This, I learned later, was Bob (a plain name for a very opinionated person).

We traversed to the smoky bar where 3 other girls were sitting, waiting for me I guess. We all squeeze into the Enterprise sedan and go to the rental-car place. The other three girls get their cars (for canvassing) but unfortunately I’m not old enough so I ride to the hotel with Bob. Age here is a very arbitrary factor, I would argue, since I’m a damn good driver (in LA you often have to be) and some of the other girls weren’t, to put it mildly.

We go to the office, which has a very non-profit vibe. It’s littered with construction paper and photos and posters, and we eat in the backroom/kitchen. Leah, the regional director, gives us an entrancing speech and we meet the team. I am by far the youngest there but it’s alright—everyone’s very friendly and proud/impressed that I’m still in high school.

The weekend passes in a blur — the combination of canvassing and phone-banking and visibility eats up time and I try to keep myself very busy so I don’t feel like it’s been a waste to fly all the way out to South Dakota. No one treats me any differently, I think, than older volunteers, probably because I’m not so much younger as to look very unlike the rest. There are of course minor exceptions, like avoiding dirty jokes when I’m around, but these are of no consequence and if anything are kind of cute.

I might venture to say that the campaign in South Dakota was a success (we did win, after all). And it was a great experience.