The Stench of Democracy

I thought of the title to this blog yesterday while standing in line to Vote Early. I waited about 20 minutes in a line of folks of many races - black, white, hispanic and asian - the typical demographic in Little Town, Big State, since we are in the burbs of Big City, Big State.

A poll-worker came down the line to bark out that we needed to have a voter registration card out and available for identification. I asked if a driver's license would suffice. Oh yes, he replied, then continued with the list of alternate id:
Voter Registration Card
Driver's License
Military ID
Utility Bill

Did he say "Utility Bill"?

The lady in front of me stopped him and asked about the Utility Bill method of identification.

"Oh yes, you will have to verify the address, and it will have to match our records."

Okay, and how does that prove who I am? Last time I checked, the address was printed on the bill, not on my forehead. And I'm pretty sure the water company doesn't care that I am a citizen of the US when they turn on the water. Not getting a warm and fuzzy feeling about this.

Then, the poll-worker told the lady behind me that she couldn't talk on her cellphone while in line. Mind you - we are still outside the building.

What happened to freedom of speech?

She ignored him and continued to talk incognito. So we progress forward as they admit seven people at a time into the building. (I told you it's Little Town, right?)

I finally made it to the door. I was in the "next 7" when I noticed a sign posted that says there is an ordinance prohibiting the use of a cell phone, camera and assorted other electronic devices within 100 ft of a polling place. We wondered aloud why an ordinance like this was needed. I speculated that it was a privacy issue, ya know, secret ballot and all. (Uncle Sam can tap my home phone, but I can't use a cellphone while I'm in line to vote. Rrriiight.)

My "seven" were called and I stepped through the door into another line, where the smell of B.O. nearly knocked me over. The poor poll workers! They have to sit in here all day. They had fans sitting behind them that blew the air back onto the masses. I was one of the masses. I had to hold my breath.

As I stood there surveying this scene - my seven in line, waiting as the previous seven vote. Watching the gentrified poll-workers peck at computers and stare through bi-focals at the monitors while the fans hummed. I held my breath.

THE STENCH OF DEMOCRACY.

I voted. As I exited the building, a little Santa-looking man slapped a "I Voted" sticker on my shirt (I thought it was inappropriate for him to put in on me like he was pinning a corsage to his prom date - he could have just handed it to me.)

I was stopped on my way out by an I-Reporter for CNN (or that's what he said). Probably just a unshaven college kid with a camera. He asked me who I voted for and why. I told him. He promised I would be on CNN. Rrriiight. You'll have to watch it on CNN to get my response.

Oh, you can't find it? Me either. Guess I gave the wrong answer.