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Business as usual in the Peach State
Nov. 4th, 2008 03:21 pmI voted.
I got to my precinct (a precinct notably lacking in lines every single other time I've ever voted there) this morning at 6:50 to discover that there were about 150 people in front of me. It took two hours to get through the line -- everyone remarkably patient for people who are American and therefore genetically prone to apoplectic fury at the sight of a line more than ten people long. I alternated between listening to the Ironborn Kingsmoot and listening to the asshole behind me expounding on everything to his adoring girlfriend, ran into a couple of neighbors. I cast my ballot, got my sticker, exited to find the line had gotten twice as long as it had been at seven, and got to work only an hour late. Mission accomplished, and I thought that would be the end of the anxiety I've been feeling lately, but not so.
A series of conversations I've had today:
Me: I voted!
Mom: You mean you cancelled your father's vote out?
Me: Yep.
Mom: Well, You've done your filial duty, if not your duty as a citizen.
CoworkerR: I cancelled your vote out this morning, Cammy.
Me: No, you have to cancel someone else's vote out! Mine is always cancelled out by my Dad.
CoworkerR: You mean my vote can stand all on its own? That's not as exciting as being able to thwart you.
Me: You can always tell everyone that you cancelled my vote out, even if it's not technically true.
CoworkerR: You mean it? Thanks!
CoworkerT: Why weren't you at the Neil Boortz dinner last night?
Me: You're kidding, right?
CoworkerT: Yeah, he asked how many people in the room were planning to vote for Obama, and only about three people raised their hands. You feeling stupid yet?
Me: Well, consider the event, T. I mean, if it'd been Jon Stewart speaking, there might've been more than three hands raised.
CoworkerT: Okay, maybe. Anyway, I cancelled out your vote this morning.
Me: Thank God for that. I'd be feeling all weightless and free if I thought my vote were actually counting for something.
CoworkerD: You're seriously a liberal? How do you sleep at night?
Me: Like a baby, unless someone's cramping my socialist style.
CoworkerD: Huh. Well, whatever, Ima cancel your vote out at lunch.
Me: God, half the state of Georgia's voting with the specific intention of silencing me. I feel so important!
I got to my precinct (a precinct notably lacking in lines every single other time I've ever voted there) this morning at 6:50 to discover that there were about 150 people in front of me. It took two hours to get through the line -- everyone remarkably patient for people who are American and therefore genetically prone to apoplectic fury at the sight of a line more than ten people long. I alternated between listening to the Ironborn Kingsmoot and listening to the asshole behind me expounding on everything to his adoring girlfriend, ran into a couple of neighbors. I cast my ballot, got my sticker, exited to find the line had gotten twice as long as it had been at seven, and got to work only an hour late. Mission accomplished, and I thought that would be the end of the anxiety I've been feeling lately, but not so.
A series of conversations I've had today:
Me: I voted!
Mom: You mean you cancelled your father's vote out?
Me: Yep.
Mom: Well, You've done your filial duty, if not your duty as a citizen.
CoworkerR: I cancelled your vote out this morning, Cammy.
Me: No, you have to cancel someone else's vote out! Mine is always cancelled out by my Dad.
CoworkerR: You mean my vote can stand all on its own? That's not as exciting as being able to thwart you.
Me: You can always tell everyone that you cancelled my vote out, even if it's not technically true.
CoworkerR: You mean it? Thanks!
CoworkerT: Why weren't you at the Neil Boortz dinner last night?
Me: You're kidding, right?
CoworkerT: Yeah, he asked how many people in the room were planning to vote for Obama, and only about three people raised their hands. You feeling stupid yet?
Me: Well, consider the event, T. I mean, if it'd been Jon Stewart speaking, there might've been more than three hands raised.
CoworkerT: Okay, maybe. Anyway, I cancelled out your vote this morning.
Me: Thank God for that. I'd be feeling all weightless and free if I thought my vote were actually counting for something.
CoworkerD: You're seriously a liberal? How do you sleep at night?
Me: Like a baby, unless someone's cramping my socialist style.
CoworkerD: Huh. Well, whatever, Ima cancel your vote out at lunch.
Me: God, half the state of Georgia's voting with the specific intention of silencing me. I feel so important!
