Vote

Back in the day when I was blundering my way around Bavaria, speaking my own little blend of terrible German and misguided Bavarian, I was delighted to learn that German has a word for people like me: Morgenmuffel. I hate, hate, hate mornings. I am grumpy and cranky like a two year old who missed her nap. So if I can drag myself out of bed at 6 a.m. to vote, there is no excuse for the rest of you.

Adventures in voting, 2008 edition:

Ash called his sister at 5:30 a.m. her time to tell her to get up and vote. Personally, I would be getting my car and my rifle ready if I were her. Ash claims that she thanked him.

When I said that I got out of bed at 6 a.m., that wasn't entirely truthful. I was awake at 6 a.m., sort of. It took me another 15 minutes or so to get moving for real, and the whole time, Ash was pinching and poking and prodding, "I want to be there when the polls open! Get up!" This is not necessarily a great tactic for getting me out of bed, but it is a great tactic for getting yelled at, maybe even kicked, except not really, because I can't really coordinate that much effort when I first wake up. Morgenmuffel, remember?

When we got to the polling station about five minutes before it opened, there were lines, and they looked pretty long. I've never had to wait in line to vote before, not a real line. I mean, sure I've had to wait my turn for the booth to open after I checked in with the poll workers, but I've never had to stand in line. The mood was kind of intense, but people were in pretty good spirits. There was a guy in the line next to us voting in his first election, and he was practically vibrating with anticipation, which is really exciting.

Ash has been walking around for days, worrying that they might not let him vote because he hasn't gotten a new voter registration card since changing his address after our recent move. I kept telling him not to worry about it because a) they probably won't notice, since his driver's license also shows the old address, and b) we moved from apartment #1A to apartment #1B in the same building, so they probably won't care. When we got to the head of the line, who did they not want to let vote?

Me.

My name did not show in the Big Book O' Voters. They couldn't find a ballot card with my name on it in the Big Box O' Ballot Cards. "Don't worry," they told me, "you can vote with a provisional ballot."

Ummmmm... no. I want my vote to be counted, thankyouverymuch.

The poll worker moved me off to the side to discuss with the elections judge at the polling place. Just as they were deciding to call the County offices downtown in order to obtain a court order allowing me to vote, another poll worker called over that they'd found my ballot card, misfiled in the Big Box O' Ballot Cards. I was very nearly ready to cry. Still, I was prepared to go all the way, call in sick if necessary, in order to get my vote cast properly.

That's how important I believe this election is.

Please vote. And unlike election day posts of the past, I do care if you're voting for the candidate I'm supporting. Barack Obama is our best chance of regaining the promise of this country, and of giving those of us who didn't inherit or marry wealth, a family name, or connections a chance to reach that elusive American Dream. I don't post political stuff very often because the atmosphere in this country has gotten too divisive, and if I'm going to be honest, because I don't think I could possibly say it as well as so many other people out there in the Interwebs. I believe strongly that this is a critical moment for our generation in particular, and I want my country and my government to stop acting like an egomaniacal bully. It's time for a change in the leadership of this country, it's time to stop pretending like the only people who matter are ourselves, it's time to start repairing the damage that eight disasterous years of Bush policies have wreaked on the poor and the middle class.