Welcome to Buster's Blog

Irregular commentary on whatever's on my mind -- politics, sports, current events, and life in general. After twenty years of writing business and community newsletters, fifteen years of fantasy baseball newsletters, and two years of email "columns", this is, I suppose, the inevitable result: the awful conceit that someone might actually care to read what I have to say. Posts may be added often, rarely, or never again. As always, my mood and motivation are unpredictable.

Buster Gammons















Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Driving Miss Lana

Yesterday evening I got a call from the local OFA Obama field office asking if I'd drive someone to her voting location on Tuesday morning.  Sure, no problem.  They gave me her info.  Both her apartment and polling place were nearby.  Her name was Lana, and I was to pick her up at 7 a.m.

Being a veteran of the god-awful election day of 2004 --Dubya's "war on terrorism" (in the wrong country), the Ohio GOP getting the morons all riled up with a gay marriage ballot issue, Ohio Secretary of State Ken Blackwell doing all he could to suppress voter turnout and slow down in-person voting, and waiting outdoors for hours on a miserable rainy day -- I made preparations for the worst.  I loaded the car with an umbrella, hats and gloves, granola bars, water, a blanket and a folding chair.  (When they called, they told me Lana was post-operative and frail, which is why she needed a ride.)

At 7 a.m., I pulled into the apartment complex and immediately noticed a problem.  Lana was supposed to be in # 914, but every single unit had a four-digit address.  In true Democratic fashion, the field organizer had given me the wrong friggin' address.  Great.  As I took a pointless lap of the parking lot, the OFA guy called.  Lana was waiting, wondering where I was.  He didn't have her address with him.  Why don't I call her?  I did.  She told me that, from Apt. # 2914, she had watched me drive by twice.  We found each other quickly enough.  (I was disappointed she bore no resemblance to Lana Turner, but I digress.)

Her polling place was the gymnasium of a rec center -- a big place with plenty of voting machines.  Good thing, because there were plenty of people too.  At 7:15 in the morning, there were probably 150 people in a line which had already snaked down a long hallway and back up it again.  But everyone was inside, warm and dry.  And Lana may have been slow-moving, but she didn't want my folding chair.  She got in the queue, and I took a seat on a bench by the door.

All things considered, the long line moved along nicely.  A couple dummies showed up without ID, a few complained about the wait, a few already in line had to leave before voting, and a few new arrivals took a look at the line and decided they'd try later.  But this location clearly had enough equipment and staff to handle the crowd efficiently.  In '04, it would have been a 2-3-4 hour ordeal.  I had Lana back home by 8 a.m.  Less than an hour.  Not bad at all.

I was glad to be her chaffeur, but I'm tellin' ya, absentee-ballot early voting by mail is the only way to fly.

And hey, Lana babe, whoever you are, we voted proper and we got it done!  Good for us. 







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