The Blues

Very Tight Down Under

On August 22, 2010, in Australia, Barrow Pushing, Life, by Rosie

Once upon a time, there was a nation at a standstill. Nope, it didn’t relate to the traffic crossing the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Nor did it speak of the time taken to get an answer from an online operator at OPTUS. Neither did the standstill apply to metropolitan trains facing the peak hour or cheap flights exiting Avalon airport.

Rather, twenty-four hours after the polls have closed for the federal election 2010, we go to bed for a second night not knowing who is leading our country throughout the next term. It’s neck and neck down under (not a pretty image, but there you have it)! Any tighter, we’d all be wearing Speedo bathers and trying to spread out in one of those voting booths they allot for us each time we go to the polls.

I wonder if other countries offer such spacious carrels upon which to cast a vote?

There’s a couple of quirky things that happen in Aus on voting day. Firstly, as soon as you arrive at the designated voting place, you’re descended upon by people with pamphlets and flailing limbs. I think this might be pretty typical the world over, only down here, you are greeted with words like ‘good onya luv’ and/or ‘grab a snag on your way through’ and/or ‘Jeez, this rain! Great for the garden, though!’

As well as the chat, there’s also the compulsory sausage sizzle, the place where the voter should indeed ‘grab a snag on the way through.’ It’s the makeshift barbie, set alight out the front, frying up with fat and onions and great wads of sauce in a hope that if the snag doesn’t kill ya, the polling booths will. It’s a wonderful thing, the sausage sizzle. This voter would feel cheated if she arrived at the place of polling, only to realize that the sausage in a blanket had found it’s way into a pair of Speedo bathers and splashed away.

Then there’s The Question. All voting Australians face this telling, mandatory quizzical statement upon presenting at the polling peeps — HAVE YOU VOTED ALREADY TODAY?

The Question never ceases to amaze me, and I find the temptation to say ‘YES, why yes I HAVE voted already today, babe!’ overwhelming. EACH and every time. I mean, for Julia’s SAKE! Why are we asked that question? Um, why would I bother rocking up, smelling the sausages, chatting with pamphlet-thrusting people, standing in a queue for moments of my life, IF I HAD ALREADY DONE IT TODAY?

ON a freaking SATURDAY in the middle of winter?

Once, when I was immature and ludicrous, I actually replied that ‘yes. Why yes I have already voted today!’ I regret it. The lady who received my smartarse answer was probably lovely, working a second job to pay for the braces on her offspring’s teeth, just doing her work on any particular day… but she didn’t even crack a smile. Whoops. Polling booths plus cynicism don’t mix. I have learnt my lesson.

Now, I just bow my head, say ‘NO. I haven’t voted already today’ and take my place in The Australian Polling Booth. Very like The Question (have you voted already today?) The Australian Polling Booth is ridiculous. If you are wider than your average gnat, press harder on a pen than a fleck of dust weighs on the window sill, and YOU actually BREATHE, chances are The Australian Polling Booth will probably concertina under the duress of your presence.

It’s that flimsy. It’s that small and so damned narrow, you might as well get to know your neighbour on intimate terms. Maybe shout them a sausage? Perhaps share their pair of Speedos as they swim past the flood of recycled pamphlets and paraphernalia towards the exit area? But for Tony’s sake, don’t SNEEZE. The Australian Polling Booth is not insured against such extremes of environment!

Whatever we do, we need to think ahead. With the state of things on Sunday August 22, we may very well be returning to said polling spots before too long anyway. Time to prepare a couple of things: Stomachs, for the onset of bbq onions and snags to go. Smiles and Nods, for the onslaught of rabids approaching with paper warfare and numbered tickets. Reduced girth, for being able to cram within The Australian Polling Booth. And, tight-lipped smile and shake of the head, to cope with The Question.

Election Day, Australia. Better than a cold pie and a warm beer on a day when your team loses the footy.