Spot goes to vote

I experienced one of those 'moments' on Saturday morning, as I was parking my car at the voting station. It was that 'i'm-mature-and-now-carry-the-ability-to-change-the-nation' type instant. This was my outlet to express how I felt about the way the nation had been run, and the direction I'd like it to take.

Determined to be fair and completely educated about the issue, I took leaflets from all parties on my way into the hall. Labor was obviously keen to shake the Liberal stronghold over my electorate, with two people at the front gate, and another two at the door. The Greens and the Democrats aka The Lie Detectors (that's a bit depressing, isn't it?) were all stationed near the Liberals, set up like a Gauntlet on 'Gladiators' (The Channel 7 version - I hate Russell Crowe). And yes, I even took a leaflet from Family First, even though they want to burn me at the stake - I was more suprised that they gave me a leaflet in the first place. Liberal had stationed their people closer to the door, making charming chit-chat with those who were lining up.

'Ah. Hello Mrs. Evans. Brought along little Johnny I see?'

'Rather [Astounding British accent, make this seem as yuppie as possible]. He's come along to see how to vote Liberal.'

'Good to hear Mrs. Evans. I shall speak to you later.'

This sort of banter was my environment for the 5 minutes it took me to go through the voting process. It was all going smoothly... People talking amongst themselves, me conjuring up rebuttals in my head for every issue they raised.

My pleasant experience was hindered by a voter located in front of me, receiving her ballot papers and getting her name marked off.

'So here are your ballot papers. There's a vacant booth behind you, and remember to put them in the boxes when you've finished, by the exit at the back.'

'What do I do with this?' the middle-aged mother (she had her young daughter with her) pondered while she looked at the white Senate ballot paper.

The entire process had to be explained to her. I understand that first-time voters may not be familiar with the process, but she had voted before (as overheard in the conversation). It made me wonder the significance of a vote - my vote - when there are people who don't even know what they are voting for.

It made me recall the days when I'd vote with my father as a young boy, watching him fill out all the Senate boxes, from 1 - 2,000 or however many. I wanted my vote to count, regardless of the number of people who don't care. It's my vote, it's my right.

On Air with BlackPunk: Duran Duran - Sunrise