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I woke up at 5:30 AM exactly; I was a woman on a mission.
I ate my cereal as I paged through the morning news on the interweb- it looked like rain. Pity. Still, I had an umbrella, and a little bit of weather wouldn’t stop me from going to the polls, even though it did make Roland want to not go outside. Oh well- that just meant a short walk!
After I got myself set up and Roland in his crate for the day, I headed to the polls, my goal to be there at opening. Unfortunately, the police had a roadblock up- they were searching the trunks of cars for one thing or another, and the road to the church that my polling place was inside had traffic backed up for a mile. The Lower Paxton Township police are not necessarily known for their efficiency, citizenship, or brains. So, I turned around and went home, drug my bike out of storage, and rode past the roadblock.
Unfortunately, they were ready for me at the church- they confiscated my purse, claiming it was big enough to hold a weapon, along with the wallet that held my ID. Fortunately, I was wearing my security badge, and I had thought ahead far enough to stick an old electric bill in my pocket to prove where I live. It took nearly an hour and a half to get through the line, but I hung in there until my turn finally came, and I pulled the lever for Barack Obama.
But the nightmare wasn’t over yet- the minute I stepped out of the voting booth, I was immediately confronted by Dick Cheney and Samuel Alito. They were not going to allow me to hand my ballot in because of ACORN. Or terrorists. Or ACORN terrorists.
“What?!?” I said, “Look, I registered to vote months ago, back when I first moved to Pennsylvania. I made it to the polls, I showed my ID, I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do that is covered under HAVA, and I am damn well going to vote!”
Alito then conferred with Cheney for a minute, and both turned back to me. “All right,” Dick said, “We’ll let you vote. IF.”
“If?”
“IF- if you do the chicken dance for us.”
As I prepared to do the chicken dance for two members of the most hated American administration in recent memory, easily the eighth most embarrassing moment of my life, my brain abruptly decided that it had had enough of this bullshit, and had evaluated all of the scenarios necessary to ensure that I would be able to vote, even if the worst happened, and woke me up. It was 2:30 AM on Monday, November 3, 2008, I was in bed, and my dog was comfortably and comfortingly curled up against the small of my back.
As I closed my eyes and drifted off into the non-anxiety dream portion of the night, I reflected on how glad I was that it was mere hours until the election was over. That, and that I would be able to vote, no matter what.
And as my fellow Americans vote tomorrow, I hope they remember that even though the lines are long, the weather is bad, and the poll workers are downright insane, they will persevere in making their voices heard. After all, nothing can be quite as bad as having to perform the chicken dance for Dick Cheney and Samuel Alito.
I ate my cereal as I paged through the morning news on the interweb- it looked like rain. Pity. Still, I had an umbrella, and a little bit of weather wouldn’t stop me from going to the polls, even though it did make Roland want to not go outside. Oh well- that just meant a short walk!
After I got myself set up and Roland in his crate for the day, I headed to the polls, my goal to be there at opening. Unfortunately, the police had a roadblock up- they were searching the trunks of cars for one thing or another, and the road to the church that my polling place was inside had traffic backed up for a mile. The Lower Paxton Township police are not necessarily known for their efficiency, citizenship, or brains. So, I turned around and went home, drug my bike out of storage, and rode past the roadblock.
Unfortunately, they were ready for me at the church- they confiscated my purse, claiming it was big enough to hold a weapon, along with the wallet that held my ID. Fortunately, I was wearing my security badge, and I had thought ahead far enough to stick an old electric bill in my pocket to prove where I live. It took nearly an hour and a half to get through the line, but I hung in there until my turn finally came, and I pulled the lever for Barack Obama.
But the nightmare wasn’t over yet- the minute I stepped out of the voting booth, I was immediately confronted by Dick Cheney and Samuel Alito. They were not going to allow me to hand my ballot in because of ACORN. Or terrorists. Or ACORN terrorists.
“What?!?” I said, “Look, I registered to vote months ago, back when I first moved to Pennsylvania. I made it to the polls, I showed my ID, I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do that is covered under HAVA, and I am damn well going to vote!”
Alito then conferred with Cheney for a minute, and both turned back to me. “All right,” Dick said, “We’ll let you vote. IF.”
“If?”
“IF- if you do the chicken dance for us.”
As I prepared to do the chicken dance for two members of the most hated American administration in recent memory, easily the eighth most embarrassing moment of my life, my brain abruptly decided that it had had enough of this bullshit, and had evaluated all of the scenarios necessary to ensure that I would be able to vote, even if the worst happened, and woke me up. It was 2:30 AM on Monday, November 3, 2008, I was in bed, and my dog was comfortably and comfortingly curled up against the small of my back.
As I closed my eyes and drifted off into the non-anxiety dream portion of the night, I reflected on how glad I was that it was mere hours until the election was over. That, and that I would be able to vote, no matter what.
And as my fellow Americans vote tomorrow, I hope they remember that even though the lines are long, the weather is bad, and the poll workers are downright insane, they will persevere in making their voices heard. After all, nothing can be quite as bad as having to perform the chicken dance for Dick Cheney and Samuel Alito.
