Shreveport, Louisiana is located in the Northwest corner of the state. Just like most southern states, it has a large minority population (around 33 percent according to the Census Bureau, http://quickfacts.census.gov/qfd/states/22000.html), and it has a substantial military population because Barksdale AFB is just across the river in Bossier City.

I went to vote at the middle school in Benton, LA, a nearby suburb north of the city. I arrived there around 9 am, hoping to miss the pre-work and post-work crowds as well as trying to dodge any possible lunch lines. I brought my Sony P10 in the off chance I could provide some Michael Moore-like expose’ on voter suppression and/or intimidation. However, there just wasn’t any to record…depending upon how you define such things.

It was drizzling when I pulled into the parking lot, which was about half full of cars and trucks. I could see a line had formed at one of the two front entrances, but fortunately it only contained about 15 people. I took my place in line and chatted casually with the lady in front of me and the man behind me, primarily about the rivalry between Oklahoma University (my alma mater) and Louisiana State (and if you don’t recall, OU got handily trounced by LSU at the end of last season, but OU is making up for it this year).

After about ten minutes, a lady came out of the school and said, “Is anyone from (my subdivision)?” I responded along with about six others, and she said, “You can come in this way.” My group cut through and we found the right place for us to vote. Evidently we were supposesd to go through the OTHER front entrance, which they said was marked with a sign but I wasn’t the only one who missed it.

There were two voting machines, the archaic mechanical sort that I’d never used before, and there was a table of four friendly people sitting there to take my name. I gave one of them my voter ID card and my driver’s licence, and sure enough, I was on the list…and she let everyone in the line know by saying my first, middle, and last name out loud at least five times. I felt a twinge of embarrassment and briefly wondered if someone would feel ‘intimidated’ by this act, but it was over too fast for me to take a picture of anything. I then shrugged off the embarrassment I felt by hearing my silly middle name being announced to a roomful of strangers and proceeded to the booth.

As I said, I’ve never used a machine like this before, and no one had offered any explanation as to its use. Could this be considered another attempt at intimidation? To make me feel stupid by requiring I ask for help? It is possible some people would categorize it as such. But I didn’t. I just closed the curtain, figured out which switches to flip, and opened the curtain to log my vote. Pretty painless, and incredibly easy for this novice to master.

As I left, I did find the sign that was supposed to guide me to the proper poll. It was about the size of a small yard sign, and the precinct number (which, incidentally, was spelled ‘precint’) was written even smaller. How could I have missed it?

I then got back in my car and drove home in the light rain.

And, on ABC radio just now, it’s been reported that Louisiana and its 9 electoral votes has been called for George Bush.

Evidently, the archaic machines work.