So, I was going to comment on the election, but, well, I’m feeling sort of meh about it. I want everyone to get their asses to the polls, but until about 8:00 tonight, when there are actual results to watch and fret over, I have nothing to say on the election other than “I have my fingers crossed.”
Actually, I do have something to say. (Shocking, I know.) What happened to privacy in voting? The mister and I went over to the local elementary school that functions as our polling place and did our thing shortly after the polls opened this morning. The lines were pretty short, the octogenarians running the thing were kind of confused but did okay, and everyone was civil. The only odd part was that there were only 5 of those little private-polling stations, and one of them was a handicapped one that no non-handicapped person wanted to use. Because none of us felt like waiting for those, people were scattered all over the gymnasium filling out their ballots. Any pretense of privacy was abandoned in favor of expediency. I used the mister’s back as a desk while I filled in my ballot and he did the same with me. When I was hunched over my face was level with the ballot belonging to the woman next to me as she propped it up against the gym wall and filled in the bubbles. She’s an Obama supporter too. Seriously, I thought voting was to be serious and done in private.
So, anyway, I didn’t suffer long lines at my polling place. My brother spent two hours waiting to vote this morning and pal KVE came in a close second at over an hour and a half.
I did suffer a long line at the little deli in my building, though. I figured with a Starbucks around the corner handing out free coffees, I wouldn’t have to deal with a line to get my scone. WRONG.
The poor workers behind the counter were sprinting and sweating trying to fill orders, make breakfast sandwiches, put scones in baggies, and get people through the line, but despite their best efforts, the line was loooooong.
I didn’t much care. I figured with it being Election Day, I could be five minutes late to work and no one would (a) be there, or (b) give a shit. The woman behind me, though, she cared.
She kept pressing closer and closer to me in line until I desperately wished I’d worn high heels, just so I could stomp on her with the stilettos. Her breath was ruffling my hair and the umbrella strung through her purse handles was poking me in the back.
Newsflash: pushing and crowding will not make the line go any faster. The laws of physics say that even if you cram people into a smaller space, the same number of people will still be there. They will just be annoyed and kind of flustered from having their PERSONAL BUBBLE INVADED BY A WOMAN WHO SHOULD DEFINITELY FLOSS MORE OFTEN.
Then she started heaving sighs and complaining.
“This is ridiculous. This is crazy! Oh, my God. This is just nuts.”
The man in front me and I exchanged eye rolls.
Finally, after a few minutes of her bitching, I turned around and said, “If you’re in such a hurry, you’re welcome to cut in front of me. Otherwise, would you mind backing up a little bit? You’re standing on the hem of my pants.”
Called on her obnoxious behavior, she backed up and proceeded to do her best to glare holes in the back of my skull. Good thing I’m kind of impervious to dirty looks.
The lesson to take from this is if you do not have time to wait for your scone and small coffee, don’t wait.