I VOTED (sort of)

 

I try to stay away from political-type posts for the most part. I believe what I believe, you believe what you believe, and if those beliefs don't totally jive, we can still be friends. The choice is yours.

With that said, I had a disheartening election experience I can't quite stop mulling over.

I have voted in Arizona in the last several elections. In those previous elections, I voted using the mail-in ballot process. Never had an issue. This midterm election, I waited for my mail-in ballot to arrive. When it didn't, I went online and checked, only to discover that I had somehow dropped off the early voting/mail-in ballot list.

No problem. Since I'd heard that voting in person is more secure, I made a point of sucking it up and dragging my hermit-self into the public at the established polling location for my area. I checked to make sure I was still registered to vote and that my voter ID card was accurate, too.

Voting is important to me. I like to complain about the state of the world, and I feel like if you don't vote, you don't have a right to complain!

Even more importantly, to me, a mere 106 years ago, I would not have been allowed to vote. One hundred and six years. That was during my grandma's lifetime. Think about that.

Depending on your views, the Earth is either billions of years old or thousands of years old. Either way, 106 years is a fraction of a wink in time. A time when I was told I did not have the right to vote. I did not have a voice worth hearing. My grandma and great-grandma were not considered independent citizens.

So yeah, I'm dragging my unsociable, introverted butt to the local fire department and casting my vote, thank you very much.

I arrive with my valid driver's license and my voter registration card. I toss in my passport for good measure. I worked hard to get that passport, and I was damn proud of my Arizona driver's license.

It's been a while (years, actually) since I voted at a polling location. A lot has changed.

I went in early to beat the rush. I was the only voter there at the time. I recognized the poll worker who came to assist me as a lady who goes to the same church.

"Hi, Shannon!" I smiled.

Shannon smiled back, eager to assist.

Shannon walked me through the touch-screen options. My name popped up, my address, everything looked good. It was time to scan my driver's license for ID verification. I did so, and Shannon escorted me over to a big, square machine that looked like something out of a 1960s sci-fi sitcom.

"Danger! Danger! Will Robinson!"

We waited. And waited.

I'm still not sure what we were waiting for. Apparently, this sci-fi prop was supposed to spit out my ballot. It did not.

Shannon scratched her head. Well, this wasn't supposed to happen.

We looked back at the touch screen and saw it flashing a red light. Back to the touch screen we went, trying to figure out the problem.

As far as we could tell, the street address on my driver's license did not exactly match the street address on my voter registration card.

Okay. It was the correct name, the correct state, the correct county, the correct voter ID number, and the correct face, my face, staring back at me!

So now what?

"No problem," Shannon said. "We can change that in the system here."

We fumbled around through screens and changed the address to match the address on my voter ID card. We acknowledged that even though the street address was different, that was indeed me.

The touch screen accepted everything, right up to the point of spitting out the ballot.

More flashing red lights. More poll volunteer workers arrived.

Now I was getting nervous and expecting ICE in my future. With my experience trying to get back through customs when leaving Mexico each time I've crossed the border, I was understandably a bit concerned.

"No hablo español... I swear!"

I was surrounded by poll volunteers, each with a different explanation of what was happening.

One volunteer said I could vote, but it would be a provisional ballot.

"What the hell is that? So I can vote, but it doesn't count? Like a feel-good button?" I asked.

"Well, not really," he said. "You can vote, your ballot just might not contain all the items on a regular ballot."

WTF does that mean?

"Get her a pink sheet!" I heard someone say.

They handed me a pink sheet of paper.

"Here, this explains what a provisional ballot is. Take it home, read it, and come back."

Again... WTF!

"I don't want to come back! I just want to vote, go home, and ride my horse!"

I asked if I just needed to come back with more ID. They said yes, that might help. Come back with something showing my name and physical mailing address.

I asked, "You mean like this voter ID card?"

"No, no, that won't work."

Nobody knew why exactly, but that wouldn't do.

I tried to explain that we don't get bills mailed to our physical addresses because here in Aguila, Arizona, you have to have a PO Box. And mine was the exact PO Box they could see on the screen that matched my voter ID card!

"Sorry, that won't do."

"Do you have a vehicle registration?"

I sure did, folks. Here it was, sent to my mailing address of PO Box XX, because WE DON'T GET USPS MAIL DELIVERED TO OUR PHYSICAL ADDRESSES!

I've got a few hundred Amazon boxes with my name and address on them. Want me to bring those in?

I'm voting, damn it, and I'm stuffing that ballot in the ballot box!

I headed back out to my truck and rummaged around for SOMETHING with my physical address.

THERE IT WAS!

Jack's Coggins and health certificate, complete with physical address AND his picture.

They were not impressed because apparently horses aren't allowed to vote, either.

Still... flashing red lights and no ballot.

In the meantime, I noticed a lady who had been sitting quietly on the other side of the room, listening to all this. She stood, came over, removed the pink sheet from my growing pile of papers explaining provisional, conditional provisional, and whatever other provisional shit somebody dreams up, and handed me yet another piece of paper.

"You don't need any of this. You can vote. You don't have to come back with any other ID. You won't have to go online and verify your ID. You can vote. Drop it in that box over there."

Earlier in this fiasco, I had been told I would have to take my ballot home, fill it out, and bring it back with proper ID.

I looked at her wide-eyed, frustrated, and a bit overwhelmed.

"I can vote? I can put the ballot in that box and it will count?"

She said yes, it would count, just not today. Somebody would get the ballot and verify my identity, and THEN it would count.

Someday. Eventually. Probably.

I marked my ballot, which Shannon had folded perfectly six times, signed my name to the envelope, and dropped it in the ballot box.

The quiet lady congratulated me.

"There you go! You voted! Would you like an 'I Voted' sticker? You deserve ten!"

I replied, "Ma'am, unless that sticker comes with a shot of Fireball, I think I'll pass and just go ride my horse. But thanks anyway."

Meanwhile, back at El Rancho Gitano del Desierto...

Thirty-six hours after the election had been called, I checked the status of my provisional ballot by entering the Affidavit ID number.

Like my grandma and great-grandma before me, my voice was not heard.

As of yet, my vote had not been counted.

I don't know how I feel about that, to be honest. I should be angry, and maybe later I will be. But right now, I'm mostly just sad.

Side note: I do want to clarify that the volunteer poll workers were in no way negligent or at fault. They tried every which way to get that damn machine to validate my right to vote and spit out a real ballot.

I understand the importance of voter identification and will hopefully clear up the discrepancy between the MVD and the voter registration system so that next election, my voice will be heard and my vote, too, will count.