I went to the bathroom at work this morning and saw a broken compact mirror on the floor. If you are familiar with breaking mirrors, you know that a broken mirror forecasts 7 years of bad luck. On the contrary, in Indian culture anything bad, such as rain on your wedding day, or broken glass in the kitchen is taken as a sign of “good luck”.
But I’m not in India. Note to self. I have to remind myself occasionally, so that I don’t burst into song.
7 years of bad presidency? Is that what it’s saying?
Hours later, I drive to the voting location, a local elementary school. I’m ready for a long line, ready for a short line. I have no expectations. I am well aware that I did not take advantage of Early voting, so am I going to whine about it? No. Am I going to sigh and fidget to let others know around me that I am annoyed that I have to wait in line, and thus infer that my time is more valuable than my neighbors in line? No. I am going to shut up and stand in line like a grown-ass woman.
I approach the school and park in the teacher’s parking lot. I have always wanted to do that, so now I can check that off of my 1000-things-to-do-before-I-die list. Then I enter the building and see that there are 8 people speckled at the entrance to the library. There’s no telling how many are INside the library. As I approach the library, a tall skinny ex-biker dude with some delegation or responsibility approaches me and asks for my last name. He says, okay you’ll need to stand in that line over there, behind the woman in the blue shirt. My first thought is “there’s a line?”…I didn’t mind that there WAS a line, but there was no appearance of a line. It looked more like a grouping at a water cooler. So I stood in “line” very obediently. Mostly because there were signs all over the school displaying a doctrine of how Good Behavior is Expected…including a bulleted list of all the things that are not considered Good Behavior, such as assault. Keep in mind that assault at some point was forced to be further explained as the following:
Awesome. I’m really excited to start a family here. As new people start piling in, I reach the front of my “line” where the registration desk is now visible. Unfortunately, the line next to me hadn’t moved at all. I am now actually IN the library and the registration desk is within reach. It’s getting exciting!
Then a 90-year old woman hollers “EYE through ILL?”, which is difficult to understand, but luckily there was a cue card behind her displaying “A – L”. Hmmm… That’s definitely NOT me. But I stood where I was asked to stand. Dilemma.
I said “I’m ‘M’ but that man directed me to wait in this line”
“Will you need tuh beee in thayt laaan”
Thank you Captain Obvious.
So then I just moved over, not in the original line, not in the other line…just in my own line. This is really symbolic of the story of my life. I was standing in my own invented line of quantity one person. And even as I was doing this, I KNEW people were going to have a freakin fit.
Immediately Lady #1 says “How’d get all the way up here? You need to move back there.”
Lady #2 behind her says “Yeah you came in after me. You can’t be in front of me”
So I moved back behind them and I said “Obviously I’m not intentionally cutting in line. I will go wherever yall want me to go. I didn’t think one extra person would matter”
Lady #2 replied and said “It does matter when you’ve been standing here as long as we have”
I rolled my eyes and thought, “I know who you’re voting for”
Then we waited and what’s happening while we wait? Lady #1 is sighing and Lady #2 is fidgeting. They were emitting any and all nonverbal signals that suggest that they were annoyed.
I was thinking, “You could have done early voting, could have come in during lunch, could have woken your ass up this this morning to vote…” I dare you to say a word….
Then in the adjacent line, “EYE through ILL”, a man Mr. Moore, gets shoved into our line.
I said “the same thing happened to me and I had to move into this line. And then these ladies got their panties wadded up over it”
Lady #1 and #2 turned their heads to glare at me.
Yeah I said it. Turn around.
Eventually, I picked up my ballot and voted.
And it felt good…it felt better than noting that 2 pairs of XL panties got wadded up.
…until I realized that I don’t get a sticker! What the hell? What kind of voting precinct do you guys run around here?
And furthermore, why can’t your people freaking learn how to alphabetize??
The irony was that all of this took place at an elementary school…where you should learn HOW to alphabetize. My seven year old niece could run this better than ya’ll. And she’d be damn sure to have stickers.