DisSuggs4u

…and dropping down a hole.

So, last Friday I took advantage of early voting in my area.

For those of you who have not tried it, early voting is supposed to be a convenience for people who want to get the pain of voting over with earlier than normal. In all truth, it is much faster and more convenient than actually voting on election day. However, only marginally so.

For instance, I waited in line for over 40-minutes before even stepping foot in the room where actual voting was taking place. My time in line was not without its entertainment, though.

As I stood there, I listened to the two people in front of me carry on a conversation about county of residence. One of them found it ironic that they lived in Austin (which is located mostly in Travis County) but voted in Williamson county. Then, they went on to say that they were glad to not be voting in Austin because they had issues with the city of Austin’s policies on growth management … how the city had performed “land grabs” as it expanded. This person’s solution was for Austin to be more like the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex, with its various municipalities handling their own business. They believed this to be a better system.

Then, almost in the same breath, they were discussing how it is hard to tell what city you are in based on what road you are on in the area where we were. “Is this Austin, or is it Cedar Park???” And they think more municipalities is a better solution?

Anyway, a short considerable while later, we entered the den of democracy: the voting room. Unlike the Wizard’s chamber in Oz, there was no curtain to hide the inner workings of this sanctum… only cardboard partitions. No, all of its glory was there for everyone to behold. And glory it was: a team of senior citizens authenticating potential voters and then handing out paper ballots for the voter to fill out while seated at a table with everyone else — with cardboard “walls” partitioning everyone off… so no one could read the answers off of anyone else’s sheet, of course.

As I made my way up to the authentication table, the person in front of my handed over their paper voter registration card to the bluehair who flipped through a paper book the size of a telephone directory containing all of the voter registration records. Upon finding the person’s name in the directory, a flag was raised. Apparently, there was an anomaly with the record. Photo ID was asked for and presented. Then, several calls were made to other (higher?) parties to see whether or not this person was eligible to vote. What could have caused all of this commotion?

Was this person a danger to himself or others?

Did this person have some sort of “record” which we should all beware?

Were they a (gasp!)… d-e-m-o-c-r-a-t?

No. (Not that I know of.)

They recently moved into the county within the last four months, and had only registered recently. I guess the county’s paper records did not automatically update to reflect the change. Catastrophe averted, the person was allowed to pass. Next, came my turn.

I walked up to the table and handed the volunteer my paper voter registration card (vrc). She found my record in the paper registration book. (Thankfully, there was no asterisk or other marks next to my name.) She then grabbed a small piece of paper the size of a sticky note and copied my name from my vrc onto this piece of paper and handed it and my card to the person next to them.

That person asked me one question: “Is this still your place of residence?” “Yes,” I replied. This answer, meeting their approval, prompted them to then scribble some very cryptic symbols on to this piece of paper. They then handed both my vrc and this piece of notepaper to me. “Hand these to the gentleman over there.” “You mean the person sitting four feet from you?” “Yes.”

Following my orders, I handed the pieces of paper to the gentleman sitting at the table next to the “gatekeepers.” He looked at my paper vrc, and then proceeded to copy my name, address, and voter registration number on to a paper table in front of him which contained the same information for voters who had since passed. Then, he handed my vrc back to me and, without turning the paper over, asked me to sign my name next to an “x” on the same line he had filled out. So, I obliged him and signed my name… upside down… on the paper form he had just filled out.

He then handed the notepaper to the person next to him. This person looked at the scribbles, verified the information written upon it, and then began shuffling through a box containing all of the paper ballots. From this box, he produced three paper ballots all appearing to be identical in size, shape, and content. He fanned these ballots out in front of him and said, “pick one.” (I honestly almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all… but this guy was far too serious to understand the joke.)

I made my selection and the gentleman told me to “go to one of the empty voting stations along the wall and use the pencil provided to fill out the ballot.” I did as instructed, and sat shoulder to shoulder with other participants… only cardboard separating us from each other’s glances. (”What’s the answer to number four?” I wanted to whisper at one point.) It was amazing to me that I was able to get to this point without anyone asking for a photo ID of myself. My paper vrc was good as gold!
After I made my selections, I folded the paper ballot in half (though the instructions did not clarify which direction to fold) and dropped it in the hole of the ballot box, then walked out the door with a spring in my step… mostly because I had to pee.

Ahh, voting in America…

Democratic? Absolutely! Futile? Probably.