Armed, caffeined, book in hand ready for the long lines at my polling place, I head out this morning to my polling place to cast my vote.
Even though I'm only one mile from my voting site, I drove my car because they predicted rain for the morning. I don't have a television so I heard this somewhere, anyway, I drove because like any self respecting Southern Californian, I don't own an umbrella, a water-resistent jacket, and like any self respecting couch potato, my sneakers are somewhere, keeping their location a secret from me.
Anyway, I get there expecting to be in lines for hours and I am pleasantly surprised. It's the first time I've had to wait more than, say, five to ten minutes to vote, but the line isn't bad at all.
I arrive at 7:34 a.m - no one at the entrance. I get a bit excited thinking I might be one of the first, if not the first, to vote. Wrong. A few feet more, into the National Guard building, down a short hall - I see it, the line. But it looks as if I might be the 30th person in line.
Calculating the rate of movement, maybe 30 to 40 people have already voted.
Though I didn't take a formal count, it appeared that the location had six to eight voting booths. There were a number of young female students from Long Beach State University working the polls.
And so here's what I saw: a number of young parents with children, even babies in carriages, young adult children with elderly latino parents, people nervous about not being on the roster because they never show up on the roster for some reason. The only problem I can report on was the loud young man, talking on his phone - loudly - on one call, letting his co-workers know he'd be in later, that he'd been to the wrong voting precinct earlier, on another call, to chastise a friend for voting 'wrong on that one, my brother. You're so fat headed that you don't listen to explanation and you don't read the fine print. You voted wrong on that one - and you're Daddy's a Deacon - we're gonna see him this weekend, you and me. I can't wait to get together with you and the guys this weekend - you're gonna hear about voting wrong on 'that one."
Clearly, he was talking about Proposition 8 - his friend, who had so obviously voted No on 8, but mean to vote Yes; maybe he meant to vote no - was only telling his friends, like this studly-rama friend of his in line, he would vote yes, but intended to vote No all along. Whatever it is, I know that there was one more vote against Prop. 8.
After all that constant loud talking, he finally got the attention of one of the polling staff, turns out is was a friend, and they determined that he was again, in the wrong polling precint.
This young man, lover of phones and constantly using it, seems his time would have been more wisely spent had he used his phone for purpose and called the registrars office to find out where his correct polling place was.
I couldn't really read my book because the line moved too quickly, and that gentleman with the phone was too distracting - we were all sorry to see him leave after talking in line for 40 minutes - I could tell by the sighs, the chortles and under breath giggles when he turned out to find, maybe, his correct voting site.
But this young man was going to vote. He did not seem to be the type to be detered...he was going to cast his vote, and I know he was voting for Obama. And I suspect he was also going to be voting Yes on 8.
On the exit informal polling of prop. 8 - mostly everyone coming out of location reported voting NO on prop. 8.
I have hope. it's only 11:11 am. - and people are out there walking like I've never seen, getting to their polling places. There's an excitement in the air. I feel good.
I have to keep myself entirely involved in work - and wait for the numbers to start coming in. I feel like that kid in the commercial - the night before a big family trip to Disneyworld - everyone, especially that cute little boy, too excited to go to sleep. Well, I'm like that little boy, Too Excited to do anything else. Hope I can work through at least 5 p.m. I hope. Maybe.
Geeeeessshhhh.....this is tough.
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