Doug: Vote Che

Dear Readers,

Today, if I finish this today, which I hope I do, is election day.

oooh.

About an hour and a half ago I was biking through a sick mix of rain and hail to cast my ballot at St. Benidict's Church. My voting site. It was coming down hard, and the first place I found wasn't the right area. I walked in, soaking wet, and handed my voter's registration card to a guy who looked like he was older than Methuselah. His buddy eyeballed me like he considered spitting me on a stick and roasting me over his cigarette.

"You're in the wrong place son." John Wayne's accent assaulted me from across the table. "You need to be about five blocks down the street."

I muttered under my breath and his buddy's look changed from irritated to reassuring. "You can vote here if you like, but your ballot won't be counted until last."

"Nah, I'll head down there." I thanked them and turned around, heading for the exit.

"Do you know what's wonderful about this country?" I paused momentarily, looking around. But the speaker wasn't addressing me, he was talking to his two children, who looked to be below age five.

"What daddy?" The more articulate kid asked, big eyed, looking up.

"I'm going to use some big words, so just ask me if I say something you don't know."

"Okay."

"We're a Democracy. Do you know what that means?"

"Nooo." The kid is speaking in the cutest of voices, the kind that makes you want children, even if you know better. I stand stock still, fascinated by the exchange.

"A Democracy is a country that gets to vote for their leader. Have you heard about Kings?" Apparently this guy doesn't read his kid bedtime stories.

"Yeah..." The cute kid voice is starting to get to me. I try and remember that I'm an emotionless robot, but it's making me want to cry with the cute.

"Kings don't get elected, they just say they're the King. So bad people sometimes become Kings, or at least people the King rules don't like the King."

"Okay..." Seriously kid, cut that out, or I'll have to light you on fire.

"But here in America we get to pick our leader. And that's what makes this country wonderful."

"Yay!"

Spell broken, I move quickly to the outside, a drop of moisture running down my cheek. I just watched a guy explain to his kids America's democracy. In the most dumbed down possible way, but still. I feel like I've been an intruder on a most intimate moment between child and parent.

It starts to hail as I bike up to the place I'm supposed vote. A lady walks up to me and I clamber off my bike. "Do you know where to vote?"

"This isn't it?"

"No!"

I mutter four letter words and hope the nice lady I'm talking to can's hear me.

"Let's ask her!" I point to a woman just turning the corner. Pieces of hail run down my back, freezing me.

She doesn't bother to talk to us, she just points in the direction of a lighted doorway. The hail makes it impossible to hear anyway. I feel like Alice, about to enter wonderland.

A warm blast of air hits my face, warming my frozen body. I can't find a place to lock up my bike, but at this point if anyone argues with me about it I'll pull their damn spine out through their skullcap.

The guy directing us all takes a look at my bike, Looks at my face, and smiles warmly. "You can put it in this room." he says.

I almost hug him.

The tempest outside lashes like some angry God, but inside this voting precinct, all is quiet, all is warm, I actually feel comfortable.

I've got a choice here, like a lot of other Americans. I'm not going to comment on who I think you should have voted for. According to CNN it doesn't matter. The polls are closing in about ten seconds. But if you didn't vote, if you didn't make a choice, well, I think you should have.

A wizened old lady hands me my ballot, and I move to the polls.

-Doug

"His whole life was a million to one shot."
-Rocky