Early Voting during the Plague

October 13th marked the first day of in-person early voting in Texas.

Even though the first and last days of early voting will be the busiest, I wanted to do my part on the first day. So, let the games begin! Actually, that’s a false signal since game-playing started months ago with the underfunding of the United States Postal Service (USPS). Then the governor decided that there could only be one place to turn in mail-in ballots for each county, regardless of population size, which prompted at least three lawsuits.

The president declared months ago that if voting was more accessible, then no Republican would ever be elected. With that rallying cry, Republicans have executed a number of strategies to suppress the vote, gerrymandering, invalidating mail-in ballots, blah, blah, blah…but wait, what’s this?

Now that the president has trailed in many polls after being hospitalized with what he touted as a hoax, many Republicans who are up for reelection are actually trying to distance themselves from him. It’s like a scene out of the Serengeti. Once the lion is too old to be of use, the lionesses no longer feed him.

The only difference: this King of the Jungle doesn’t realize his trusty minions, who’ve gaslit the general public for four years, have all but abandoned him now that his base has shrank. Yet as long as he can pack in hordes of mostly maskless crowds to cheer on his antics, he’s on top of the world–his own world, that is.

Nonetheless, after working, doing yoga, and eating lunch, I drove to my nearest early polling place, my neighborhood library, to help dethrone him.

At 2:35 I joined the line,

which was shorter than a line for a popular ride at an amusement park but moved faster. As a matter of fact, it moved faster than the socially distanced grocery store line back in March and April, which was a good thing since I’d forgotten my umbrella on that sunny day.

Although I had an ebook on my phone, which I had every intention of reading as I waited, I took in the ambience of being outside and socially distanced from the mixed demographics of races, ages, and physical abilities. Plus, I’d struck up a friendly conversation with the guy immediately in front of me, who was part of the health care community. The great thing about being six feet apart was that we could still talk to one another without yelling.  

Nonetheless yelling occurred anyway because we were in a pandemic and it was 2020. A young white guy about four people ahead of me, told the older white woman behind him to put on her mask and stop standing so close to him. She transformed from a jovial conversationalist to belligerent bitch in a split second. The middle aged woman she’d been happily chatting with attempted to talk her down from her rage. She reminded the older woman that they’d been talking so nicely to one another previously, but the older woman just ranted about how the young man shouldn’t have addressed her in such a disrespectful tone. The older woman at least complied with his request, but also continued to rant about all the bullshit she’d had to put up with in her life.

She’d lowered her mask to drink water and forgot to replace it because she was talking to the woman behind her. So, this transformation was a shock.

Fortunately, the line continued its steady progression and I breathed a sigh of relief as the ranting woman quieted down as entered the building. The guy immediately in front of me, complimented the middle aged woman immediately in front of him about how her soothing tone helped defuse the conflict. She confessed to having an 11 year old.

Throughout the brief argument, I wished to make myself smaller, invisible even if I could’ve. All I could think of was, “Will you white people stop arguing before my black ass gets shot?!” One of my fears is that a stray bullet will somehow find me.

In the end, I waited 25 minutes in line and spent about 5 minutes voting. Voting would’ve been faster if the powers that be would’ve allowed choosing a straight party ticket. In a way it was entertaining to think, “You’re fired!” to each republican, starting with the president. 

Before exiting the building, I grabbed my sticker, pulled off my disposable rubber gloves and smiled at the significance of exercising my right to vote.