From my tiny neck of the woods, voting went swimmingly this morning.
I walked into my precinct in south Temple City, found the correct “table” and told the bevy of volunteers my name. I signed the book, got my ballot, put it into the inka-vote system, snapped it over the two pegs on top and began marking away.
When I took out my ballot, I checked to see if had black dots; it did.
I handed it to the poll worker at the ballot box and he showed me how to put it into the machine (sort of like an ATM machine that takes your card). He looked at the readout and said: “Perfect.”
I felt secure that my vote counted.
The people were even nice. Like the young woman, a student at Temple City High School who asked if I was related to Andy Scauzillo,. “Yes, that’s my son.” She said, “Yeah, I know him, I play basketball.” (Andy plays forward/guard on the TCHS Varsity basketball team and is sports editor of the high school newspaper Rampage).
As I was leaving, the tall gentleman in front thanked me for voting and told me “not to forget to get a cup of coffee for free at Starbucks.”
He was busy directing voters to the right table and was keeping the line moving. This is a multi-precinct location, so each table has an aggregate of registered voters. It makes the lines go quicker (sort of like many cashiers at McDonalds).
I encountered three people waiting as I walked in at little after 9 a.m. The whole process was quick, easy and greatly satisfying.
I would highly recommend it if you haven’t done so already. I even prefer the showing up in person and voting on election day routine. There’s just something very democratic about seeing your fellow voters in the multi-purpose room of a church/school.
As I left, a steady stream of cars were turning into the parking lot.
I slapped the “I voted” sticker on my chest, puffed it out and walked to my car.