By Brandon Rose.
The early morning American voting line – a uniquely spirited congregation of the determined and the dutiful.
I rolled up at the polling station here in Florida, just as the first hints of dawn were beginning to creep across the sky.
The clock hadn’t even struck 7am, and already a modest line had formed, about 15 souls, each steeling themselves against the chilly morning air as they awaited their turn to perform that most solemn of civic duties.
Now, just as we’re all shuffling our feet and trying to keep warm on this unusually cold November morning, up pulls this car. Out steps a lady—must’ve been well into her eighties, stooped over, moving with all the speed of a tortoise with a cane. She gingerly made her way toward us, her steps so tiny she might as well have been marking time. As she struggled to reach the top of the disabled ramp, the person at the very front of the line, a fine upstanding kinda guy, turned and gestured warmly, “You stay right here at the front, ma’am. No need for the back.”
And with that, our little line of early risers nodded in collective approval. It was one of those moments that reminds you of the innate decency in people—a rare and precious quality in these politically turbulent times.
Now, yours truly, never one to miss an opportunity for a bit of levity, let out a cheeky, “Hey, lady, back of the line!” which drew a chuckle from the group. Except, that is, from one lone individual—a woman just in front of me, who spun round with all the righteous indignation of a schoolmistress catching a naughty pupil mid-prank. She fixed me with a glare that could’ve frozen the Gulf of Mexico.
And in that instant, I thought to myself, “Ah, there’s the Democrat.”
