Key West Lou / AN OLD MAN

Yesterday was an odd one.

I decided to vote. Drove to the new Election Bureau building on Stock Island. Packed. Parking in the lot and on both sides of the highway. Easily 40-50 cars. My handicap sticker proved valuable. There was an open handicap spot in the lot and an attendant directed me to it.

There was a long line waiting outside to gain entrance to the building. Before I even got to it, I ran into Ashley. One of my physiotherapists. She had just finished voting. Still sweating. Not from the voting. Ashley is a runner. She had run from her condo behind the Regal Theater and was going to run back. A beauty. All a woman should be at 27 yeas of age. We enjoyed a pleasant conversation. She told me the whole voting experience would take about an hour.

I got in line. Outside, of course. I counted the people waiting. I was number 35. The line soon became 50.

It was a bit warm. The building and trees blocked the wind.

It took 35 minutes before I entered the building where the line continued inside.

There was a couple in front of me in line. We talked the whole time. Mid-forties. From Summerland Key. The husband began the conversation. He expressed his feelings re the election. Sounded like a Harris supporter. I merely nodded yes to what he said. I have always felt a polling place is not where politics should be discussed. People are there to do their thing. The talking behind them.

We talked about their kids, my Robert and Ally, the weather, cost of groceries, and a ton of other miniscule things. Every now and then the husband tried to direct the conversation to politics. I avoided his move each time. There was something strange about him. Just before we gained entry to the building, I understood why. He was a Trumpie. I had misread him. He was wearing a red cap with Make America Great Again emblazoned on it.

The building inside was terrific. Air conditioned and clean. A huge room well organized. A number of election staff personnel standing about directing people. I was impressed with the organization. And the joviality. Each staff person smiling and courteous.

My Trumpie friend proved what he was. There were different colored lines on the floor. We had to stand behind each as we progressed. The one near the end before receiving your ballot was orange. My Trumpie friend stepped over the line before his time and walked 5 feet ahead. He was kindly reminded to go back behind the orange line. He kept his head and nose up and ignored the woman staff person. She kindly reminded him again. He went back, but only to the line. Neither touched nor crossed it. A Trump asshole was all I could think.

When I entered the building, there was an empty chair inside by the door. I was asked if I wanted to sit. Only me. No one else. I said no. Thought, do I look that old?

High rise tables were set up for people to stand at and complete their ballots. Also, 4 small tables with chairs for I assumed the aged and infirmed.

By the time I was ready to receive my ballot, I felt aged. I was tired. I had been standing about 40 minutes. It must have shown in my body and face. I decided I was going to ask if I could sit and complete my ballot. Before I could, another worker asked if I would like to sit and I graciously accepted.

It felt terrific to sit.

It suddenly dawned on me that I must look old. Don’t laugh. Before my heart attack in January, I was 89 years old. People always took me for a person in his 60’s. Since the heart attack and three heart surgeries plus losing 60 pounds, I am still 89 but now must look it!

The thought did not make me happy. Vanity, I guess.

When I left and was in the lot at my car, the MAGA couple were waiting for me. They wanted to say good bye and how they enjoyed our conversation. If they only knew I was a Harris fan. They said I looked disgruntled. I quickly explained how the age problem bothered me. They helped by replying you are old and look old, etc. I disliked them even further.

That’s the new me I guess. Eighty nine and look eighty nine!

I hustled over to Brady’s Irish Pub for the Syracuse/Virginia Tech game. Ruthie took care of me. Set me up with my own TV set. I was the only Syracuse fan.

I had high hopes for Syracuse. We were only 4 point underdogs.

The first half was a disaster. For Syracuse. Took 10 minutes to get our first down. While Virginia Tech had already enjoyed 7. With two mines to go in the first half, Syracuse was down 14-3. Syracuse had the ball however. Looked like a Syracuse touchdown by half time. Not to be. Syracuse fumbled. Just like we had fumbled a few times against Pitt who slaughtered us in our last game.

That did it for me. I never leave a Syracuse game. No matter how bad we are getting beaten. For more than 60 years, I have been a diehard fan and remain till the bitter end.

Not yesterday. I said to myself, Screw it! I’m going home and left at halftime. I did not want to see Syracuse get humbled again.

I cannot get Syracuse sports on my TV. So when I got home, I went to bed and slept till almost 5. When I woke, I checked the final score of the game to see how badly Syracuse had been beaten. Was I wrong! Syracuse had won 38-31 in overtime!

Now I was the asshole.

Syracuse had a terrific second half as it turned out. Syracuse now 6-2 and bowl eligible.

Such was my saturday. Don’t know if it was exciting. Interesting, definitely.

Enjoy your day!

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