Election night nervesTHE SCENE at county executive...

SCENE AND HEARD IN ANNE ARUNDEL COUNTY

September 20, 1998|By Cheryl Tan Traffic stoppers

Election night nerves

THE SCENE at county executive candidate Janet Owens' camp, staked out at Baldwin Hall in Millersville, on Tuesday night as primary results were slowly being called in:

Pacing around the hall amid the nervous hush as people waited for the final tally, a man stopped to ask a young woman: "Do you have long fingernails? If you do, you could rent them out for people to bite."

Another woman commented to a friend: "It's funny to be in a whole room where nobody's breathing."

WITH THEIR feet propped up on coolers, Carole King, 36, and her mother, Anita Kulp, 61, lounged in matching beach chairs Wednesday on a small plot of grass, staring at the traffic passing through one of Pasadena's busiest intersections -- Mountain Road and Hog Neck.

Drivers craned their necks to see the women, with their ashtray-covered TV table and plastic cups filled with iced tea. On their laps sat little green boxes with red buttons.

The women were traffic counters, part of a county-funded study to get a handle on driving patterns.

For every passing car, from 5: 30 a.m. to 6 p.m., the women pressed one of their buttons.

By the end of the day, the two had pressed those buttons tens of thousands of times.

Cars incessantly pulled up, and motorists asked if the two needed help, if something was wrong.

Many people also rolled down their windows to inquire what was for sale.

"We tell them, 'Not us,' " said King with a laugh. "We're just making traffic safe for all mankind."

Laura Sullivan

Too soon to tell

CAROLYN M. Roeding of Pasadena, who lost a place on the Democratic ballot for the District 31 House of Delegates race by a measly five votes this week, said Thursday she isn't sure about the future. Would she ever run again?

"That's like asking someone who has just given birth if they will ever have another child," she said. "I have no idea."

Kris Antonelli

Below expectations

IN THE continuing saga of what-floor-is-this at the Anne Arundel County courthouse, a visitor hit the first-floor button on the elevator, figuring that's where a person would go to leave the building in Annapolis.

But when the doors opened onto the first floor, it was clear a mistake had been made. Instead of the wide, bright hallway with monitors and signs (that's the second floor), he was looking at several rows of vacant, dark, pew-like benches from the old courthouse.

"Well," he said, "This must be where they send you to repent."

Andrea Siegel

Pub Date: 9/20/98

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