My polling Station is the Methodist Church within walking distance down the road. Last time, one of the workers got all excited seeing my GREEN PARTY registration and putting my materials together.I was the only so registered in my area. I told him there was a car in the parking lot with Quebec license plates, he should run out and see it too.
Last time too, this idiot informed me I spelled my name wrong after I spelled k-A-V and he told the clerk "NO, look under the Cs."
I give my 83 y/o mother a ride to vote. I must look rude, racing in ahead as she slowly walks in. Truth is, her generation of the family exaggerate civic duties like a Norman Rockwell painting of the actress who played LEAVE IT TO BEAVER's school principle.
I almost got killed when my late aunt ( the one who still hissed at mention of Japan) came to a dead stop in the middle of the street right in front of a oncoming fuel tanker. She saw the disant elementary school janitor raising the american flag, put hand to heart and recited the pledge of allegiance as this shiny tank with a big old yellow sea shell swerved past us with jake brakes screaming at a safe and ane 20 MPH taking out several cedar picket fence posts and rose bushes.
My mom just makes a stink if they don't publically read out her name and announce she has voted, or the gold plastic eagle on the flag is crooked.
Sort of gives me incentive to read on health care and senior initiatives more.
