Through the Eyes of a Delivery Goddess |
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As the local news stations claimed traffic was light this election day morning, it was evident that their cameras were NOT pointed into the small towns and suburbs. It seems the battle between Barack Obama and John McCain has pulled potatoes from every couch across the Unites States. You would think they had banned toilet paper or something with such LONG lines anywhere even close to the polling sites today; our local fire hall comfortably parks 65 cars, and can handle up to 90 if you park closely and use the shipping area around the back side of the kitchen. Not only were all spaces full this morning at 6:35am, (the poles open at 7am), but the small road beside the fire hall that leads up into a housing plan was parked end on end along one side of the road as far as the eye could see. Sure, you'd believe all of these folks are trying to get their vote in before they start their work day, but that's not necessarily the case. Since the Steelers Game ended late last night, our newspapers were later than normal this morning. I was backing out of a driveway in a retirement plan, trying to remain aware that suburbia traffic is a bit heavier than normal. From two driveways down, a little red Corolla came out of a driveway like Mario Andretti. I could hear the suspension bottom out as the age-shrunken senior gentleman was obviously afraid they'd either close the poles before he could get there, or perhaps that he'd get lost on the way there. I backed out after he went zipping past the end of the driveway, finished the last two papers in the plan, then realized I would be one paper short for the end of my route. I drove to the diner about three miles away where there is a coin box where I could buy a paper quickly, without going inside a store somewhere. For as quickly as the gentleman in the Corolla pulled out of his driveway, I was suprised to find him as the reason for the hold-up in the diner parking lot. He was trying to decide where he could park his car. Across the street from the diner is a local community center, also used as a polling site. Their parking lot normally holds about twenty cars, and the diner's plaza was being used today as the over flow. The lot was full, and apparently, the fullness of the lot dampered the gentleman's ability to decide in which of the three open spaces he should park. Once he was parked, I was able to pull into a space beside him, right in front of the newspaper coin box. He was NOT in a hurry to vote as I had oringally assumed, instead, his eggs were getting cold. As I got out of my truck, the diner owner barked at me, "Eatin' or votin'?" When I asked her to repeat it, she asked me again in slow motion... "E-A-T-I-N' OR V-O-T-I-N??" Without hesitation, I said I was buying a paper. The volume of her voice led me to believe she wanted everyone to know she was policing her three parking spaces for her clients and NOT for voters across the street. I smiled and bid her luck. On my way back past the fire hall mentione previously, there were cars parked on the main road across from the fire hall and people actually pulled aside along the road sitting in their idling cars. Perhaps I'll wait until after lunch to hit the fire hall, which is my designated polling place. It's nice to know, though, that traffic on the way to my parents for the day will be a bit lighter than normal; they're all at the fire halls, community centers ... and diners. |