(Cross posted at Y-Decide 2008)

6:48 AM - about 15 people in line.

This has become something of a tradition for me going back to the 2007 primary election in which I wrote about my wonderful experience as a first time voter in the City of Philadelphia.  Until that point, I had either voted at a polling place in Delaware County that never saw a line longer than 4 people or by absentee ballot.

Today marked my 4th time voting in Philadelphia and my first time at my new polling place - a firehouse in South Philadelphia.  I do so miss voting in the gothic confines of the Fleisher Art Memorial but I’m definitely glad I was a location that only contains one division rather than the three that share Fleisher.  If the lines for each division at that location are anything like the line I saw in my spot, the crowd must be overwhelming.

My wife and I lined up at 6:42 AM after dragging ourselves out of a bed at the ungodly time of 5:45 AM.  At that point we were numbers 5 and 6 in line behind some chatty folks who wondered why PA polls don’t open at 6 AM like they do in Jersey or why we don’t have early voting like so many other state.  I held back from my usual rant about the unlikelihood of our state legislature EVER doing anything that makes sense or is in the least bit progressive and restricted myself to inocuous conversation about the weather and the Phillies.

After a few minutes, another handful of people were lined up behind us causing my wife to wonder why it was “so important” that we get there early if the line wasn’t even that long.  “I could still be sleeping,” she said.  “I’m going to be done so fast that I’ll have to go to work on time,” she said.  And my favorite, “I wanted to wait in a long line so I felt like I actually suffered for it.”  Checking the time, I noted that we still had ten minutes until the polls were to open and assured her that by the time that happened, we would understand why it was important to show up early.

Eight minutes passed.  Two minutes before the polls opened, twenty-eight people stood in a line that snaked from the front of the firehouse down the sidewalk towards the corner.

7 AM.  Polls opened.  Thirty-three people made there way into the firehouse with two or three more lining up behind them immediately after.

7 AM, polls open about 30 people behind me

Now it gets interesting.  In the back of a vacated firehouse bay stood two portable voting booths, and two folding tables at which three poll workers sat behind thick binders.  As I waited in line, I observed as voter number 1 stepped in the booth.

“The lights aren’t on,” she said, “should the lights be on?”

A poll worker in charge of the booths asked her to hold on while she took out a large instructional “magazine” that told her how to operate the machine.  Eventually she found the proper instruction, moved to the back of the booth, and did something that made the lights go one.

“Now the lights are blinking,” said voter number 1, “should they blinking?”

“Don’t ask me any questions,” replied the voting booth technician, “just press the buttons.”

Voter 1 finished her civic duty, exited and took up her position as one of the poll workers.  Yikes.

Soon it was my turn.

Step 1.  Hand driver’s license to volunteer number one, a lovely older lady whose hearing isn’t the greatest.  Her job was to hand write, in beautiful Catholic-school cursive, the name of each voter in a lined notebook.  From there you move to the two volunteers who had the poll books, each with the signs that said “last names A-M.”  Uh-oh.

The volunteers seemed unphased by the misleading signage, sending me to another lovely older lady who was in charge of the poll book for voters “N-Z.”  Saying my name in a loud clear voice and spelling it out for her, I watched as she started in the S section of the book and worked her way… back.

“Excuse me,” I said, “perhaps you should go in the other direction.”

She went one page back and reached the “Rs.”

“Nope,” she said, “not there,” and continued to flip through the book until she reached the Z’s.

“It doesn’t seem to be in this book,” she said.  I patiently suggested that R comes after P and asked her to start a little further towards the front of the book.  At this point, the “at-large” poll worker, not tied to either poll book, stepped in to help.  He was an older gentleman with a much firmer command of the alphabet and helped to find my name.  Since it was my first time at the new polling place, the volunteers asked to see my ID which I had since retrieved from volunteer number 1.  I signed my name and went into my polling booth.

For once, I took the time to really check out the booth.  With only 7 races (president, state treasurer, state attorney general, state auditor general, state representative, state senator and congressional representative), 3 city ballot questions and 1 state ballot question, it wouldn’t take long to do the actual voting.  I read the instructions for writing in a candidate.  Seemed simple enough except that apparently it was BYO Pencil.  Oh, well.  Bob Brady was safe from candidate Mickey Mouse for yet another year.

My selections made, I hit the green “vote” button and the lights went out.  Just as quickly as that with no horns, whistles, confetti, or even the satisfying “ka-chunk” of the old lever machines, my 22 months of observing, studying, and thinking about my choices was over.

I met my wife towards the front of firehouse where by that time the line had grown to about 40 or 50 people.  It was 7:15 AM.  From start to finish, my checking in and voting process took about 4 minutes.  Assuming - and it’s a generous assumption - that the team of poll workers can handle two people at a time, the person standing 40th in line at 7:15 AM could expect an 80-minute wait.  The check-in process should probably take no more than about 1 minute.  With an additional voting booth productivity would be boosted by 50% cutting Mr. Voter 40’s wait down to about 12 minutes.  Not too much to ask.

“See why we came early,” I said.

“I’m worried,” she replied, “maybe I should stay and volunteer to help these folks out.”

“Too late,” I said, “you need to go through training and certification and a whole bunch of other hoops to be a poll worker.”

“What if no wants to wait,” she said.

“Well, the mayor and the district attorney told everyone to be patient and wear comfortable shoes,” I replied, “and remember how the mayor told everyone to take public transportation to the Phillies parade and how well that worked out?”

Uh-oh.

Do you have a story to share about your voting experience?  Feel free to write it in the comments or email it to me at dpohlig (at) whyy.org.  Later tonight, I’ll share them with our WHYY-91FM listeners as Dave Heller and I chat about the Election Day happenings on the internet.