Voting in the Republican Primaries in Louisiana

While this isn't the first time I've voted, this is the first time I've been able to partake in a vote that does not immediately affect my state. As it were, the Republican Primary is the "most important" election I've ever participated in - although admittedly with so few delegates at stake, even if the race weren't fundamentally clinched there is such a voter apathy out here that you'd have no idea that there was a presidential election afoot. Nevertheless, be it because I'm simply more interested in politics or because I'm not native to the South, I eagerly flocked to my local polling station.

The signs of typical Louisiana culture showed in the haphazard way that the signs indicating the polling station were posted. For example, to indicate that I was indeed in the right place, a hand written label saying "VOTE" had been scratched on the back of a small "reserved parking" sign reading, "vote".

The place of my choosing was the same location I'd voted for Bobby Jindal during the state elections - and the same group of people remained awed over the fact that my last name had so many words and syllables in it. With the stories of people lining up in New Hampshire waiting desperately for the polls to open, I had envisioned a grand spectacle of people eagerly rushing in to fulfill their civic duties.

However, it was the same scene from the other two times I had visited the Tech School. Two people were already in trying to vote, they were asked to leave, and I was in there a collective six minutes, five of those involved in them asking me how to say my name.

The two aforementioned voter hopefuls were there before me and had spent several minutes arguing with those moderating the booths. Apparently one had not registered with a party, opting to stay independent, while the other had forgotten his driver's license. Both had their own individual protests and excuses why they did not need to meet one of the stated requirements to partake in the election, such as how independent means they can choose at the last minute if they want, but because Louisiana is a closed primary, they were ultimately forced to bow out and leave.

Aside from my brother, who is still too young to vote but was intensely curious to see how the process was done, provided the only real conversation about the political climate, which mostly amounted to him laughing that a sample of the polling station indicated that even the presidential candidates who had dropped out were still eligible to be voted for.

The actual act of casting the vote was equally unexciting - I was asked to stand behind a large curtain, where I was shown a board with a piece of paper over it.

"You see the two lists?" a voice from the other side of the curtain asked.

"Yeah," I said back.

"Alright you see the long one?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, it's going to light up. That's the side you'll vote on."

Suddenly an orange glow lit up behind the piece of paper, illuminating the names of the Republican candidates. I momentarily humored myself with the idea of voting for Mitt Romney or Rudy Giuliani just to spite the three less than appealing choices left to me in Paul, McCain and Huckabee, but I ultimately made my choice, pressed the little "cast vote button" and left.

Of course, I was pleasantly surprised to find out that all the rumors were wrong: the names George W. Bush, John D. Rockefeller, or Skull and Crossbones did not come up on the screen, there were no men in coats waiting to shake me down, and the entire thing fundamentally went as I cast it. In fact, I even remarked on how dead it was, noticing there was not even an exit poll.

"Who cares what Louisiana thinks anyway?" one of the poll moderators said, gaining a laugh from those around her.

As I walked out the door, I shook my head at just how common a sentiment that was.