Longtime Heathen R. supplied this anecdote from his father, who still lives in our former state. Both R. and his pop are, like Heathen, Cracker-Americans:
Went into vote in the primary. Went to the Democratic side, manned by three elderly black volunteers. “I want to vote.” “You don’t understand, sir, this is the Democratic side.”
Sigh.
The Democratic side is always three elderly black women. Every. Single. Time. I confuse the poll workers, I think, because I cross party lines so much in the primaries. The GOP side was (wo)manned by two high school looking white girls. Odd? Probably not.