Voting becomes a contact sport

billheitland.com

Was this trip necessary?

What started out as a simple trip to the voting precinct got complicated when my toe caught the top of a speed bump, sending me headfirst onto the parking lot asphalt.

There’s that nano second of realizing your momentum is sending you out of control and you see the accident before it happens. I used my right forearm to cushion the fall, but it didn’t seem to help much.

A few poll workers rushed to help me back up, but I waved them off, assuring them that I was OK. Only a few scrapes and a bruised ego, was the way I put it.

I was so embarrassed; I didn’t want to take the time to assess the damage. I just wanted to vote and get as far from the place as possible.

When I reached the registration table, I was met with stunned silence by the three volunteers gazing at what must have looked like a mess. When I explained what happened, not one of the volunteers seemed to buy the story.

I imagined that the man at the far end of the table, his eyebrows arched, was thinking, “Why doesn’t he just man up and admit he lost the fight?”

The woman closest to me had the deepest look of doubt. Her thought might have been, “A little early to be drinking so heavily.”

The woman next to her, with lips bunched and eyes narrowed, was likely thinking, “Huh. Anything to get attention.”

Since they weren’t talking, I thought I should speak up, saying, “It all worked out. Voting is serious enough to warrant getting some skin in the game. So why not today?”

Bill Heitland is the author of three books: Adversity’s Early Light, Chance Evers and Two for the Seesaw.

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