Saturday, 11:30 AM: I pull into the parking lot of my nearest early-voting location, a large local library. Whoa. Voting hasn’t even started, but parking is already getting scarce and I can see a line around the back of the building. I could turn around right now and come back another day, maybe a weekday. But I’m too excited. I want to vote, and I want to do it today.
I’ve been waiting three years, eleven months, and sixteen days for this.
11:35 AM: I get on line behind a younger guy wearing a Vassar College mask, and stick in my new Airpods. On the car ride over, I’d been listening to Brené Brown interviewing Joe Biden about leadership styles, specifically about the difference between “power over” and “power with.” I finish listening to the interview in line. It energizes my spirit; it’s the perfect set-up to my long wait.
12:00 PM: When voting starts, there’s no appreciable movement in front of me. A long line extends behind me. Still, my fellow voters and I estimate maybe an hour, hour and a half. We figure the line will move quickly. I switch to listening to the Office Ladies podcast. It’s nice to have Jenna Fischer and Angela Kinsey in my ears.
12:45 PM: Very little movement, and it becomes apparent that our estimates are off. We’ll be here for the long haul. I’m grateful for the way I dressed– comfy pants, hoodie, sneakers, and my “Nevertheless, She Persisted” t-shirt. I’m also grateful for the fact that I’m probably not going to starve or dehydrate much even though I have no water or snacks with me. Thank goodness for Saturday morning breakfasts. I suck on a peppermint I found in my purse. I wish I had my husband’s solar phone charger, because I’m pretty sure my phone battery will die. I wish I had my Kindle to read.
I notice that everyone in line is fairly quiet. We’re keeping to ourselves or the person we came with. I chat a little with the people on either side of me, but not much. Everyone is wearing masks, even outside; I see no exposed noses. Everyone is social-distancing.
1:30 PM: We’re finally next to the building, two long sides away from the front. I think about how I’ve been standing in line for two hours and am pleasantly surprised at my lack of impatience. Americans are notoriously bad waiters, but I get the sense from everyone here that no one really minds the wait. We’re grateful to be here, for the ability to vote, making our voices heard after three years, eleven months, sixteen days. No matter whom we’re voting for, we value our vote more than ever before. We’re taking this seriously.
2:15 PM: I start to conserve my phone battery. I send texts to my husband and dad that I probably won’t be in touch. My husband sends back a screen shot of the voting line that was posted on a county Democratic page. I can see myself, wearing my pink sweatshirt. I share the photo with the people around me in line.
2:45 PM: Almost there. I thought seeing the end in sight would make it better, but time seems to go even slower. My phone battery is long dead, so there’s nothing to do but wait and watch. I think about how much harder this would have been pre-quarantine, how my brain always craved distraction back then. My brain is more settled these days.
We amuse ourselves watching people coming to vote without understanding that the line wraps around the building. We take pity on them and point them in the right direction.
3:00 PM: When I reach the polling place, I have a happy surprise– my friend Sue is one of the poll workers. We talk for only a minute, and I wish I could give her a hug. They give me a clean stylus for the electronic sign-in, then a clean Sharpie for my ballot. I fill in my bubbles and feed it through the scanner. My vote is accepted. I pick up an “I Voted” sticker on my way out and stick it proudly on my sweatshirt.
All total, it’s been 3 hours and 25 minutes since I arrived. As I’m leaving, craving food and water and a place to sit, I look at the line behind me. The people voting now were there, like me, before the polls opened. It’s been three hours. The people at the end of the line have at least another three to wait, but the polls are supposed to close in two hours. I hope they stay open for these voters.
Early voting was a new experience for me. New York has good election-day voting in general; I’ve never had to wait on a line longer than 5-10 minutes before. Honestly, it felt good to wait. It seemed to make the process more meaningful. And even though the people on the line were quiet, it felt good to be among them. It wasn’t just me waiting, then voting; it was we.
Make sure that “We” includes you.
Photo credit: Sora Shimazaki