[Editor’s note: This column is the first in a series of three commentaries on provincial affairs by former Edmonton-Meadowlark MLA Maurice Tougas.]

It was early 2005, and the first day of my first session as an honourable Member of the Legislative Assembly for the Province of Alberta.

I was now officially a Big Shot, a Somebody, a Man of Substance. Thinking people actually chose me, Maurice Tougas, to represent them. For someone whose only previous experience in politics was being room rep for my junior high school student council (I attended one meeting and was pretty much impeached afterwards) this was heady stuff. I was previously editor of the Edmonton Examiner, and of late a struggling freelance writer who would write an ad feature for Sid’s Used Shoe Shack if the price was right (i.e., anything).

Now here I was, a member of the legislature of the province of Alberta.

I was a lawmaker.

I was a man who could now actually influence the course of human events.

I was decider, just like George Bush, only on a somewhat smaller scale.

On my first day of my first legislative session, I walked up the grand marble staircase leading to the chamber. It was where I imagined the 83 men and women chosen to lead the province would engage in vigorous but respectful debate, weigh the pros and cons of important pieces of legislation, and arrive at consensus decisions for the good of all Albertans.

As I walked up the stairs with my fellow MLAs, our every step was followed by TV and newspaper cameras. A CBC reporter walked up to me and asked me to comment on the significance of the day. I said some forgettable platitudes (a big, stupid “I can’t believe I’m here” grin plastered across my face) about what a great day it was, and how proud I was to participate in the democratic process, yadda yadda yadda.

When the interview was over and the camera turned off, the reporter turned to me blankly and said, “And who are you?”

My ego crashed and burned like a fighter plane shot from the sky.

But the reporter’s question would prove to be prophetic. Even though I was elected fair and square, defeating an incumbent who spent tens of thousands of dollars more on the campaign than I did, I felt like a bit of a fraud, like a lottery winner buying a mansion in a gated community.

I was an Alberta Liberal MLA, which at once made me a somebody by virtue of my suddenly exalted position in the community, and a nobody by virtue of being a member of the wrong party.

Before the year was out, the exhilaration of walking into the Legislature building that first day would be replaced by a feeling not unlike the first day of school after summer break. Well before Ed Stelmach called the unnecessary election of 2007, I had already made up my mind that politics was not for me, and that I was not going to stand for re-election. (Judging from the results, it was one of my smarter decisions.) A lot of people ask me if I miss being an MLA, and my honest answer is no. Not for a moment. Oh, I miss the pay, which is the best money I’ve ever made. And I miss a couple of the perks, like the pass for unlimited meter parking in Edmonton, or the credit card that paid for my gas. (Boy, do I miss that card.) And I miss the people I worked with — my friends and fellow MLAs and the young, always incredibly smart people who work for the official opposition.

But otherwise, no. Not for a second.

You see, the legislature is an exclusive club with no standards. If you’re from rural Alberta — the land of rugged individuals and scary groupthink — the only prerequisite to joining the club is holding a valid Progressive Conservative party membership. No others need apply. It helps if you know how to chew gum and walk at the same time, but it’s not entirely necessary. As a government MLA, your job is to sit quietly, like Rod Flanders on a long car ride. As long as you can do that, you’re in.

Over the next three and a half years, I would learn a lot about Alberta-style democracy. I would learn that we are living in a system that is skewed ridiculously towards the powerful, where the media is shockingly meek and compliant, where the ruling party pulls every trick in the legislative book to make sure that their opponents are belittled and denigrated at every opportunity. I also learned that what goes on in the legislature doesn’t make a lick of difference to anything.

And I would learn that I while I enjoy politics, I didn’t like being a politician.