The time was 6:32 a.m. Not one to be dissuaded by the political rhetoric and hip-hop mish-mash “Vote or Die” societal gibble-gabble that’s been force-fed down my gullet for the past six months, I was up and at ‘em at my polling location this morning. Even at that hour, there were about 500 people at my voting place. These folks up here in Buckhead don’t play. A couple of people were turned away (and arrested) for wearing political paraphenalia and advertising for their candidate or party of choice. That shortened the lines dramatically once it was time to open the polls.

A lot of people weren’t at the correct polling location. Luckily, there were enough provisional ballots available for all the dumbasses out there that didn’t read their voters registration card to know where to go. It was exciting to see that many people lined up ready to vote and exercise their civic duty. And while I know it was early in the morning, I was the only Black person there. Which of course, sparked a lot of unwanted conversations.

“Young man, are you at the right polling place?”

“Yep. I live right up the street.”

“Oh…yes. Now are you sure you’re eligible to vote and everything? You know if you have any sort of traffic violations….”

“Lady, don’t make me call 1-866-OUR-VOTE on your ass.”

For real. Voting is something I’m dead serious about. My mom marched in ‘65 and I had great-aunts who were in the movement as well. I’ve been across the Edmund Pettus Bridge and been to Brown Chapel AME church more times than I can remember. It helps when you have relatives that live within walking distance of the two historical sites.

Once inside, I signed up, waited in line for about ten minutes, then cast my vote (of course, voting “No” on SR 595) and skipped my merry way back home. And I got to jam out to my on the fly Politi-mix (God, I love my MP3 player) the whole time. So so simple.

Voting. It’s for the sexy people.