Talk about timing. I was voter No. 668 at my precinct. One minute earlier and I would have been demon spawn.
There were no electronic voting machines. Instead, we had paper ballots (to the delight, I’m sure, of Instaman). After signing in – which I really don’t remember having to do before – I received instruction on how to fill out the ballot. It’s been years since I was told to fill in a bubble – or, in this case, an oval.
I went to one of the many tall, skinny desks with walls and went to bubbling. As usual, I split my ticket. I vote for people, not parties. Both have a few too many nuts for me to fully embrace one (I’m looking at you Pat Robertson, and you Paul Krugman).
I also only vote the races in which I know the candidates. Most of the time I’ve met them. If I don’t know ’em, I ignore ’em. So no judical candidate votes from me.
All in all, no choking, no blackouts, and no harrassment. Good times.