The Privilege of Voting

I got this email from my daughter. 

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So I put the girls on the school bus and head off to be a responsible American and vote. I’m so happy to see no waiting. The 80+-year-old lady at the door smiles, reminds me it is a beautiful day outside and asks to see my ID. I forgot to look for my voter ID card, but hand her my driver’s license.

She says, “Do you have some other form of picture ID?”

“No, why?”

“Because this license is expired.”

“So I can’t vote?”

“Sure you can vote! Right after you go to the tag office and get a valid driver’s license.”

My good friend walks in. I tell her I’m suddenly not having such good day. She thinks it’s funny. The old lady tells me it is still a good day. She is still smiling. I am not.

My voting place is on the other side of town from the tag agency. Not a real big deal. Just two sets of train tracks away. And yes, I wait for a train at both sets of railroad tracks. Gives me plenty of time to notice in the mirror that I am having a really bad hair day – not the kind of hair I want to look at for the next four years.

So I get to the tag agency. I am the third car in the parking lot and park right in front of the door. I see why all the people are still in their cars. The tag agency doesn’t open until 8:30. Deep breath…it’s only 10 minutes away. Other cars pull up. At exactly 8:30 people start racing for the door to be first in line. This catches me by surprise. I assumed we would all file in by the order that we arrived. Caught off-guard, I scramble, but I am now about 5th in line.

I get up to the counter and the lady snaps, “Please step back away from the counter.” Because I was texting and not paying attention, I didn’t notice that she was only taking the picture of the person in front of me. They are coming back. It is not yet my turn. Very humiliating.

Finally my turn. I step up and explain that I just noticed my license had expired when I went to vote. She takes one look at it, hands it back and says, “This has been expired more than 30 days. I’ll need your birth certificate.” Then she finally makes eye contact with me, smiles and says, “Looks like I’ll be seeing you again later.” Ugh!! I am not smiling.

I drive home across town – and yes, two sets of train tracks and yes, more trains! Get the birth certificate – it was right there beside my voter’s registration card! I go back to the tag agency and get back in line – about 5th again – not too bad. This time I don’t step up too early. When it’s my turn to sit and have my picture taken, the woman behind me steps up to the counter too soon. I am a little pleased when she is scolded.

I sit down to wait on the picture with an old man who tells me he let his license expire one time. Back in 1933! I’m stunned he remembered that!

Finally, she tells me it’s ready, hands me the license and laughingly says, “Now you can go get in line to vote!” I am not smiling.

I drive back across town – actually avoided trains – and present my fresh-off-the-press license. The 80+-year-old lady is very pleased with me. The line is very short and as I finish and start to place my ballot in the scanner, another 80+-year-old lady tells me if I haven’t filled out the whole ballot, it will reject it. I don’t think this is right, but am too weary to question it. I get back in line and this time answer “yes” to all the judges that I have never heard of. I scan my ballot and proudly put my “I Voted” sticker on my shirt. Now I am smiling!!