What an adventure to get to vote!
Stones in the way, stumbling blocks and mistakes.
Sunday, October 1st, election day in Pindorama[1], I left my neighbourhood; by car, I went to the Conceição do Rio Verde Center: half an hour to overcome the 48 kilometres of winding road. I left so quickly, that I forgot to get the sandwich and bottle of coffee for breakfast.
Here, this time, everything is electronic, even the document that replaced the TSE — Superior Electoral Court (Tribunal Superior Eleitoral) card (I have the little beauty kept as a guarantee: this electronic stuff usually gives errors and problems, all of them). As soon as I got out of the car, I checked that I had a photo ID and that my e-Title was already on the first page of my cell phone.
The “e-Título” already contains information about the address where each one will vote, the Electoral Zone and the Section. At the entrance, I showed the door attendant these data, which I had written on the back of the paper sheet with the names and numbers of my candidates.
̶ Sir, this Zone is not from here.
̶ But I took the address from the TSE!
̶ Either you were wrong or it is one of the problems that have occurred on the site. You don’t have the e-Title?
̶ Yes, but I tried to open it and I get a system error message.
̶ Give me your CPF (Registration of Individuals at the Ministry of Economy; same as Individual Taxpayer Registry).
̶ It’s no use: it was with the CPF that the error occurred.
̶ Then your TSE registration number.
̶ I usually keep it at home, but I’ll see if it’s in the glove compartment of the car.
It wasn’t in the glove compartment or behind the sun visors. I went downstairs and took out my wallet to see if I had it in one of the compartments; I wasn’t, I went back to the same place,
̶ Most likely it is on the street…, three blocks from here, at the Padre Eurico da Silva Schoo, she said.
I didn’t go by car, I went up the steep slope (Conceição is but slopes, down, up, to one side or the other).
The same type of conversation, about the e-Title, the registration number…,
I took out my wallet to show my ID.
Wow! Where’s my driver’s license? I didn’t even wait for an answer; I sent myself running downhill; I looked around inside the car, on the sides and under it, my driver’s license had disappeared; I walked around, and asked passersby and residents if they had seen it, nothing.
Come on! I have to vote! This election is life or death for the country.
I remembered I had the What’s from the campaign head of the candidates I was going to vote for.
I called, he was at home, he gave me his address and instructions on how to get there. Incontinent I went; there was an “encruzo” (crossroads); by instinct, I took the right, and got lost in a neighbourhood I didn’t know; I called him again, gave me new instructions. I arrived at the pharmacy near there, and asked the attendant (it was the pharmacy on duty); it was two blocks away. I left the car in the parking lot; decided it was better to walk, asking on the way where the place was. It was downhill. I arrived!
The friend was already at the door, he greeted me and invited me to enter; on the computer, with my CPF and ID (expired) data, he located my data on the TSE website. Printed (on the online printer), Location, Electoral Zone and Session.
I said a quick thank you, and went back, up the hill to my car.
The location was close to where I’d first asked, only two blocks down, and not up.
The door attendant showed me where my voting place was: she pointed with her finger, the second-to-last before the end of the hall. I arrived and was really happy: there was no queue; I would be the first to vote. I presented the e-Title and… the door attendant was wrong; it was the last one, with a reasonable queue,
but not as big as the ones I faced when I lived in São Paulo.
Anyone who came in to vote took a long time to leave. When it was my turn, I understood! The responsible for the Session, first put my thumb on the identifier (electronic…),
did not recognize; went to the indicator and nothing either. He wiped the gadget screen and repeated my thumb and forefinger once more. Nothing appeared.
Don’t worry, sir (he and the responsible treated me like a bald gentleman with white hair on the sides should; they knew from my document that I’m 87 years old).
And they had to be patient to wait for the TSE website to open, through the Internet, to see that I exist; the man, finally printed a paper (via online printer…), he signed it, and I was able to vote, just as fast as in the past.
Tired of walking, waiting standing and hungry, I went to the restaurant-bakery that I knew and that was close by; I went in, and ordered a ham and cheese sandwich on wholemeal bread and a cold Heineken at the counter.
I sipped my beer while I waited for the sandwich. I leaned back in the corner chair by the window and fell asleep.
I heard the manager discussing with an elegant, slender lady with well-combed silver hair.
̶I already told you that someone here took two fifty Reais bills from my purse! I want my grades!
̶ Ma’am, no one has left here since you came in except that gentleman; he pointed at me. None of us took your money! You can’t leave without paying the bill.
I got up, went to the manager and said to him,
How much is this lady’s account? Whatever is the debt, I’ll pay.
I took my credit card, paid, and said,
̶ The lady and I will wait until the police arrive, which I will call.
The lady thanked me. I invited her to sit at my table.
Very pretty, with light brown skin; you couldn’t guess her age, not least because she dressed like a young woman: tight jeans, a white blouse under an open denim bodice (no doubt to show her breasts without a bra and still standing), Puma sneakers.
̶ Good afternoon, madam, my name is Flavio…,
̶ I know: I saw your name on your credit card. My name is Adriana, and thank you so much for getting me out of this embarrassing situation.
̶ Very rude of this manager! The owner is a gentleman, he would never have acted like that. I’ll call the police now; I called, identified myself, and explained the case. The attendant said he would send a police officer.
I complimented her hairstyle.
̶ Ah, it’s a Short Bob hairstyle, I think it goes well with my face (and she gave a little push with the index finger of his left hand to push away that small strand that falls near the left eye, and that is there for this very reason, to attract our attention for her eyes, or just for charm). No ring on the annular finger, where there is a ring, I believe tourmaline: single and wealthy; other rings on the little and index fingers.
̶ What beautiful eyes, Adriana! Bright light green: were you born here?
She looked at me with inviting eyes and an inviting smile too.
̶ I was born in Rio and graduated in business and engineering there; my father had a telecommunications company in Dresden, Großes Telekommunikationsunternehmen; a friend told him about the immense possibilities here in brazil, he came to visit him, was convinced, brought what he had and started a small company Telecomunicação Total, which was enormously successful, branches from Amazonas to the midwest and south. It was one that Deutsche Telekom bought in 1995. He married my mother, born in Três Corações, Minas Gerais, who moved to Rio at the age of five,she became a real carioca; this combination came out. She smiled. I have a brother, who still lives in Rio.
When my father died, she and I came to our coffee farm that my father bought here and named “Fazenda do Teuto”; we alternate our life between the farm and our home here.
She asked me to tell a little about myself; I told her and mentioned that I still spoke a little German.
̶ A fellow engineer who speaks German!
̶ Wait! Mein Deutsch ist wackelig.
̶ Lol, but do you also stumble in life?
It was the opening to what we both wanted.
We got stumbling, stumbling, she came to the sofa, hands clasped, legs rubbing, a greedy kiss.
̶ Adriana, this restaurant has a hotel upstairs; I’ll pay for one night and we’ll go there. Ok?
̶ Yes, come with me, but I will pay.
When the door was closed, we kissed passionately, took off our shoes and threw them away, I took off her bodice, and opened her blouse, while she, my shirt, I rubbed my chest on her small and hard breasts, with one in my hand I licked the nipple of the other, I stuffed it almost whole in my mouth, she moaned, took my girdle with a tug, my pants fell off and I kicked them to one side; went kissing and licking I dropped her panties… two fifty Reais bills fell to the floor. I continued kissing down her body, I stepped on one of the notes, slipped, and fell flat on my face.
She put her hand on my shoulder,
I looked to the side,
̶ Sir! Are you well?
I opened my eyes wide,
The cop! Why did he come just now?
Again he tapped me on the shoulder.
̶ Sir! Look at me.
I lifted my head, hair, and face, soaked in beer, shirt and pants too, as the beer had slipped off the table; me leaning over the table, arms dangling, sandwich and broken glass on the floor.
̶ Oh! Thank God! I called the police because I thought you were dead.