a special voting booth for people like me

I was so glad that I managed to wake up early to to vote. Although there is a polling place across the street from my loft, I had to walk to the polling place two blocks away, down the street from our art supply store, Raw Materials. One look at the long line across the street from my loft and I picked up my pace - I'd probably be in for just as long a wait.



I walked up Main Street and took my place in line. Not quite around the block, but almost. One of the poll workers kept coming out and checking the line. He spotted a few elderly voters and a man using a cane. He walked up to them and told them there was a special booth for handicapped voters, and would they like to jump ahead in line to vote? He walked them inside the building and would periodically come out to check the line for more disabled voters. Cool. I had tons of nervous energy, but I settled in and fell into conversation with those in line around me and of course the conversation alternated between the cool places to hang out downtown, downtown viewing/victory parties, and the election itself.





I was almost inside the building when the poll worker approached me.

"We have a booth inside that's a little lower, a little shorter than the others. Would you like to come inside and vote using the short booth?"

The people in line around me, the ones I had just met and the neighbors that I recognized from walking Wonton - all laughed uproariously. I imagined that it was like a child's table, low to the ground and covered in Hello Kitty stickers, with crayons to mark my ballot.

"Are you kidding me?"

The poll worker was apologetic, "I don't mean to offend you, I just thought--"

I wasn't offended, I though it hilarious that I was singled out in that long line, not for being a disabled voter, but for being a short voter. I declined, determined to wait like all the other, taller voters around me. The poll worker went outside, looking for disabled, elderly, and short voters.

Once inside the building there were places to sit and the poll worker instructed us where to sit so that we wouldn't get out of order. Then he informed me, "You know, you can't change your mind anymore. There's someone else in there using the short voting booth."

I laughed, "That's okay, I'll wait. But can I take a picture of the short booth?"



Seen in line to vote: Hal Bastian from the DCBID, Kitty, Matthew S., Abby and her owners, Mahogany, Olivia, and former loftmates Kedric, Tim and Bethany.

defending my neighborhood

I brought our Prius in to the downtown Toyota dealership for servicing and took advantage of their courtesy shuttle to get back home. When the car was ready, they sent the shuttle to retrieve me. I probably shouldn't have gotten into it with the other passenger, but I felt my neighborhood needed defending.

Let me back up: I opened the back door of the courtesy shuttle, climbed in and said hello to the driver and passenger. We rode in silence, but when the driver stopped at the corner before making a right turn, some water splashed onto the windshield.

Driver: Oh, look at that! Raindrops! It's raining.
Me: Good, I'm done with this heat.
Passenger: (laughs) Oh, I don't think that's rain.
Driver: No, I heard it was going to rain this weekend.
Passenger: (laughs) In this neighborhood, that could be, you know, anything coming out of these windows.
Me: (looking up at the SB Manhattan, SB Lofts, Hayward Hotel) Oh please, this neighborhood is not that bad. Bodily fluids are not being squirted out the windows onto the street.
Passenger: I used to work down the street on Spring... I'd see all sorts of things.
Me: Yeah, how long ago was that? Save it sister, I've lived downtown for seventeen years and I've seen the neighborhood go through changes. Sure, they used to throw bodies out the windows of these buildings, but that was years ago. That was probably water from someone's rooftop jacuzzi.

Ha ha, right? Late the other night, Jim and I are on Spring, walking Wonton. A guy is walking on the sidewalk ahead of us when someone dumps a large amount of water out a window of the SB Manhattan, hitting him. He jumps out of the way, missing most of the deluge. Then, seconds later, someone throws a water bottle out the window and hits the sidewalk with a huge, sickening thud. That could've landed on me, or Jim, or my precious little Wonton. Stupid motherf*#$ing neighborhood.