I Did It For the Sticker

Today, I woke up with excitement because, after work, I'm going to vote. And that vote will be historic (I'm excluding the GOP from this discussion because I have not lived in a cave the past 8 years). Not only will we be electing either a chick or a brotha' as a Presidential nominee, we'll also soon have a President that is smart.

I didn't vote in the morning because the polls don't open until 7 AM and by that time I'm already at the downtown Starbucks. I get home at 6:30 PM and wait for my sister to get home so we can all walk over next door to vote. Half an hour later, we're off.

I saw walking up that the place is packed. It's in an apartment lobby that is not too big so that amplifies the crowd density. I also notice that every poll worker, except one, is a senior and by senior, I mean old. Okay, so they aren't too quick in finding my name on the list, but they were all quite friendly and don't smell of warm milk at all. The Democratic booths are all in a row while the Republican booths were split in pairs. Not only were they separated, one pair was adjacent to one of the registration lines. This was a perfect place to give whoever uses those booths the stink eye.

With my ballot in hand, I wait my turn for an open booth (the stink eye booths were unused while I was there). Once someone leaves, I pounce. On the ballot there are, I think, 6 choices for the Presidential nominee. I only see two. There's also the Indian gaming propositions that we were pounded with during the Super Bowl (but not as much as the Sara Connor commercials though). Once done marking the ballot, you walk over and hand it to one of the grays. She takes it, rips off the stub, and hands you an "I Voted" sticker. I take my proof of participation in history and stick it on the laundry room doorknob.