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You Must Be Able to Walk the Stairs to Rock the Vote

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Crazy super Tuesday. So excited. I showed up at my polling place, Emerson Junior High School around 10am today. No crowds, I took the day off of work and took my time getting over there. I went inside to find 5 voting officials with a cumulative age of 496 yakking to each other and paying absolutely no attention to me, the ballots, or the voting booths. There was a middle aged woman there in a wooly hat, a face mask and dark sunglasses who was livid that her polling place had been changed. She kept insisting that she vote the junior high school, even though her name wasn't on the list and her sample ballot had a different address for a polling place. Numerous arguments such as "I live right up the street!" and "I've voted here for 12 years!" were not swaying the voting officials. In the midst of her screeching whining chaos, no one was paying any attention to little ol' me. Some woman who had clearly lost her hearing about 26 years ago handed me a ballot without checking that I'd signed in or registered. Great. I could be a terrorist.