Didja vote? huh? didja?
It's finally here, and maybe tomorrow I can go back to a normal life without constantly refreshing CNN and Wonkette and every other stupid political hack website out there.
Walked over to my polling location (a lovely old church) this morning, marveled at the line stretching around the corner and down the better part of two neighborhood blocks, shook Mayor Fenty's hand as I got to the end of the line, and prepared to wait. Fenty's a very handsome man.
I paused at the end of the touch-screen process to take a deep breath and read the names on the screen. It's history, you guys. Who would've thought?
One story that damn near made me cry (in a pre-coffee, post-voting daze)...
loquaciousmusic says at 6:58 am, November 4th, 2008
Okay, so I was doing fine. I drove to the polling place, found a spot to park, and got in the “A-L” line. There was about a half an hour wait, so I bought a cup of coffee from the kids who had ingeniously set up a refreshment table by the front doors of the elementary school. The couple in front of me had a very happy baby. It was all good.
When I finally got to the front of the line, I gave my address and received my ballot. I walked over to the voting table, picked up my Sharpie, and filled in the bubbles-just like on the S.A.T. At that point, I was almost home free. I walked to the back of the gym, put my ballot into the scantron machine, returned my privacy folder, and accepted, with thanks, my sticker.
Then it was out the door and down the hallway. The line was long-very long, especially for Connecticut, which is not a swing state by any stretch of the imagination. There were the doors. If I could just get through the doors and to my car…
Suddenly, a fifty-year-old African American woman merged next to me. She had just voted, too, and she had an “Obama/Biden” button on her jacket. I held the door open for her as we went outside. It was 6:33 A.M.
As we walked in step down the sidewalk in front of the school, she turned to me. “Thank the Lord,” she said. “The sun’s coming up!”
I got into my car and wept.
Yes we can. And, yes, I did.
Walked over to my polling location (a lovely old church) this morning, marveled at the line stretching around the corner and down the better part of two neighborhood blocks, shook Mayor Fenty's hand as I got to the end of the line, and prepared to wait. Fenty's a very handsome man.
I paused at the end of the touch-screen process to take a deep breath and read the names on the screen. It's history, you guys. Who would've thought?
One story that damn near made me cry (in a pre-coffee, post-voting daze)...
loquaciousmusic says at 6:58 am, November 4th, 2008
Okay, so I was doing fine. I drove to the polling place, found a spot to park, and got in the “A-L” line. There was about a half an hour wait, so I bought a cup of coffee from the kids who had ingeniously set up a refreshment table by the front doors of the elementary school. The couple in front of me had a very happy baby. It was all good.
When I finally got to the front of the line, I gave my address and received my ballot. I walked over to the voting table, picked up my Sharpie, and filled in the bubbles-just like on the S.A.T. At that point, I was almost home free. I walked to the back of the gym, put my ballot into the scantron machine, returned my privacy folder, and accepted, with thanks, my sticker.
Then it was out the door and down the hallway. The line was long-very long, especially for Connecticut, which is not a swing state by any stretch of the imagination. There were the doors. If I could just get through the doors and to my car…
Suddenly, a fifty-year-old African American woman merged next to me. She had just voted, too, and she had an “Obama/Biden” button on her jacket. I held the door open for her as we went outside. It was 6:33 A.M.
As we walked in step down the sidewalk in front of the school, she turned to me. “Thank the Lord,” she said. “The sun’s coming up!”
I got into my car and wept.
Yes we can. And, yes, I did.