On Friday, I voted in the Czech presidential election – the first of its kind in our small nation’s history, in which the president was traditionally elected by the Parliament – at the Consulate General in LA, which was a very bizarre experience. Getting to the Consulate was a full-on adventure all of its own, at the end of which I nearly turned into a car mechanic, but I’ll write a separate post about that soon; this one is about voting. (It’s not about politics, either. I’m not going to speak to the various candidates policies, campaigns or personalities. Some other time perhaps.)

The Consulate resides in a fancy executive building on Wilshire in Westwood. I felt really out of place in my casual outfit and I must have looked like that too, because the front desk attendant approached me very actively when I was still pretty far from him. He directed me to the Consulate, which is much more homey and less fancy in the look and interior decoration. For some reason it really threw me off that everybody spoke Czech (I don’t know what I was expecting;  it is the Czech Consulate). I had only left my home country three days prior to the election, but for some reason it was quite difficult for me to adjust to that. Perhaps it was the combination of my native language with American cheeriness and positivism, which the Consulate’s employees applied to it. When I cast my vote, the committee erupted: “Congratulations” in very loud, cheery voices, amplifying bizarreness of this whole experience. (I’m sure they had a great laugh from my face, and it may be the only reason they did this – that would have been quite Czech of them after all.)

With the American elections in November, I’ve experienced a season of presidential races. In one of my creative writing classes back in November, we wrote a freewriting exercise (a prompt is given, and you just go with it: write without a break until you reach a point – or not, as it often happens with these) starting with “When I walked out of the voting booth.” Election season and all, I decided to share it with you. Well, also because I’m pretty happy with how it turned out.

When I walked out of the voting booth I felt elated. I was filled with pride of being a citizen of a democratic country. I was happy I had the opportunity to cast a vote to keep it that way, and I made sure I took it. Of course, in a free country, one has the choice not to vote, but I feel it is my duty to myself, to my fellow citizen, and to democracy.  

Filled with these noble thoughts, I descended the city hall’s staircase and walked to my–

“Cocksucker-motherfuck!” I let out.

Turns out the residents of the streets surrounding the city hall have made the democratic decision to tow away cars parked on the street without a permit.