Funny Guy Friday... (Don't) let me see some ID...

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
     I still remember the first time.
     I was eighteen years old. As I closed the curtains, I was standing there... vulnerable, nervous, and very apprehensive. At the same time, I was very excited to be in this position. I was asked to be there by the one that I loved and respected... who was I to say no?
     This person meant the world to me.
     In spite of my nervousness and apprehension, I performed my duty. And if I may say... I performed it well.
     At the age of eighteen, I cast my first vote ever... for Ronald Reagan... the greatest president of my lifetime... if not of all time.
     You knew I was talking about voting right? What else would you be thinking?
     Now that I think about it, in most instances, people get better with experience... but my first vote... and the same vote four years later... were the two best votes of my life. Of course, it is entirely possible that it may have more to do with the candidates than my voting skills... but they were definitely my best votes.
     Of course, all of this is relevant because this past Tuesday, I voted in the mid-term and gubernatorial elections. I love election day, and I take my duty to vote very seriously. Despite the fact that my preferred candidates have little chance of winning in the deep-blue, great state of Maryland, I still vote in every election.
     Up until two years ago, I voted at our local fire house.
     The person that signed me in every two years was a family friend and has known me since I was six years old. We would chat, and then he would give me my card, and away I would head off into the voting booth. Certainly no need for me to provide any identification under those circumstances.
     Two years ago, after the gerrymandering (I say this with great derision... see Maryland's congressional and legislative gerrymandering here and here) that resulted in my two-and-a-half square mile town being split into two separate voting districts, our polling place changed to a new location ten minutes away, and our friend is now nowhere to be seen.
     I understand that Maryland no longer requires proof of identification to vote.
     I think this is ridiculous, but as they say... Rules is rules! My mother used to get mad at me whenever I did not follow the normal routines that everyone else would follow. She would ask with disdain... What... you don't think that the rules apply to you?
     You know, sometimes they don't.
     As I entered my new polling place, I did not recognize any of the volunteers. And if I don't recognize them... my guess is that they don't recognize me.
     As a result, every time I vote, I whip out my driver's license to show that I am, in fact, me. The result of my sinister act of identifying myself has been met with the same reaction the last two voting cycles... the pollster throws his hands up in the air and pushes away from the table as if my driver's license has been stricken with the Ebola virus.
     We don't need that... we can't have that!
     But how do you know that I am who I say I am? 
     We are going to ask you a few questions to prove your identity. What is your name?
     Mark Palumbo.
     Mr. Calumbo... how do you spell that?
     With a P.  Let me show you... it is right here on my...
     No! That won't be necessary. What is your address? Month and date of  birth?
     All of that information is right on my driver's license, and those are not exactly secret questions that would prevent some other schmuck from coming in here and saying he is I. For example, I know my brother's name, his address, and his birth date. I could be he for all you know. Please, just take a second and look at my driver's license. 
     We can't do that Mike!
     Mark... My name is Mark Calumbo, er... uh... Palumbo. Now, even I am confused about who I am. 
     These folks were steadfast in their refusal to take my ID. They wanted no part of it. I honestly got the impression that had I wanted to, I could have pulled out my license and started taking hostages.
     Don't anybody make any sudden movements, or I swear, I will make this pollster hold my license in her hand and get information off of it. I swear... I will do it... don't test me! 
     After a few minutes of this clever banter, I finally gave them the information that they had requested. As an fyi... I was the only one in line, so my obnoxiousness was not intruding on anyone else's right to vote. I was eventually handed my voting card and sent off to vote.
     As I was leaving, I asked the poll workers what time their shift changed. One nervous pollster asked why I needed that information...
     Because I plan on coming back and voting as my brother, and I just want to make sure I don't run into any of you folks the second time around.  
     They hate me at my new polling place. But that doesn't faze me one bit. In fact, they better get used to me because I vote in every election... and since three of the folks that I voted for in this election emerged victorious... I consider this to be my lucky polling spot.
     Who knows? Maybe some day, I will be able to cast a vote for a president as good as Reagan. If he were still alive today, I am sure he would tell me...
     Well, there you go again... hoping for another president just like me. But there is only one Ronald Reagan. I can prove it to you. Just take a look at my driver's license!