For some odd reason, my polling place changed. Whatever, it was only a little bit farther than where I used to go to vote, so no biggie. And besides, the poll is close to Mission BBQ, and any excuse to go to Mission BBQ is valid.
I pull into the lot of my polling place, and all I can think is “same actors, new stage.” Just a bunch of volunteers running around the lot, trying to stuff literature into your hand. When you get inside the door, there is a big barrel full of said literature. What a fucking waste. Maybe if politicians didn’t waste so much cash on literature, they wouldn’t have to accept so many contributions and bribes to run a campaign.
Voting itself was uneventful. I got my ballot, filled it out, and ran it through the scanner in probably less than 7 minutes. Of course, Tuesday is one of my days off during the week, so, your mileage may vary.
As I was leaving the multipurpose room used for voting, I felt my shoe come untied. I steered my way to a folding chair to tie it and was approached by one of the poll workers.
“Excuse me, sir. It seems your right shoe has come untied.”
He reminded me of Justin Wilson, the Cajun cook who used to have a show on PBS. He even had a bit of a southern drawl, not quite Cajun, but close enough for jazz. He entertained me with a story while I retied my shoe.
“I was downtown a couple weeks ago, on jury duty at the Justice Center, when I saw a man with a shoe untied. I mentioned it to him, and he turned on me and gave me a few choice words I can’t use in polite company. He went up a flight of stairs, and wouldn’t you know it, when he got to the top step, he tripped on the shoe lace I warned him about, fell down all 12 steps, and broke his ankle.”
I chuckled. “Good for him. Sounds like karma worked that day.”
“I told him, right before the paramedics arrived, maybe he won’t need that lace anymore if they have to cut the shoe to fix your foot.”
We shared another laugh at the other guy’s expense. I thanked him for brightening my day with his story, shook his hand, and went on my way.
It’s one thing to just ignore somebody and keep walking after an innocuous warning about something like an untied shoelace. But to actually take the time to cuss out somebody, just because they were looking out for you?
I may be tempting karma, but I still can’t help but smile when I think of that story.