I’m a voter…

I voted today. I was in the downtown area and I decided to brave the maze of government buildings to exercise my duty as an upstanding American citizen. For some reason I was overly excited about the idea of voting early. I hate lines. I am that person who will stand in line for twenty minutes, become frustrated and get out of line. I do think there will be record turn out, and I would hate not to participate in the process this year because of my impatience. It would be highly unacceptable and I didn’t want to chance it. This is the most important election in my twenty some odd years on earth.


I managed to find my way to the right floor and the right room, once there I had to stand in line to fill out a form. While standing in this line, I noticed that there was a wet paint sign on the railing near where we stood. I avoided the railing because of the sign. Less than two minutes later, a woman walked up and leaned against it. A woman standing next to her pointed to the sign, but she responded that she saw it. She moved away from the rail and of course there was paint on her shirt. She started cursing, so this caught the attention of one of the security guards. He walks over to her and she says “I got paint on my shirt, who is going to pay my dry cleaning bill?” First she had on a regular cotton t-shirt. Second the sign was clearly posted in plain view. So he looks at her then at the sign and says “Ma’am there’s a sign right there that reads wet paint, the paint is wet what did you expect?” She leans back as she crosses her arms then says “I didn’t smell no paint when I walked over here so I assumed that was an old sign.” She is clearly offended by his question, so there is an exchange between her and the guard. She says some other colorful things, but it’s not necessary to share them here. The point is she spoke English, she could read the sign and she decided to lean up against the railing anyway.


The form we had to fill out was to collect basic information. It was simple to follow and all areas we needed to fill out were highlighted. I get to the desk and the woman in front of me is fussing with the clerk telling her that one of the questions didn’t make any sense. There was a section on the form that requested that you check either absentee or advanced voting. Advanced voting stated that this only applied the week before the election. Absentee was highlighted, so it was clearly the box to check. The woman didn’t want to check absentee because she feels that it doesn’t apply to the situation because she isn’t going to be absent she just wants to vote early. The clerk tells her that although she may not think it applies it is the box that she must check if she wants to vote. They go back and forth, and the clerk keeps telling her if she wants to vote she has to check that box. Another guard comes over and tells the woman to stand to the side until they can resolve the problem. Lady, there are only two boxes, pick one.


After signing in, I sat down. For the most part everyone was pretty quite, but there were some loud ones in the bunch. So much so that the person reading off names, stops and says “In order for people to hear their names when they are called, we ask that you keep your voices down. Please keep your conversations to a minimum and I need for you to use your inside voices like you are in a library. Thank you.” After making her announcement she goes back to reading off names. Not even five seconds after this, one of the loud ones, a woman sitting directly behind me resumes her conversation using her outside voice. I couldn’t help, but turn around and look at her. Did she not just hear what was said? Clearly she understood it because she was speaking English, but she completely ignored it.


These people voted with me today and I am very concerned.


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