Yes, sure, everyone should have the right to vote, in theory. But the people who register three hours before the deadline at a Wendy's in Burbank? Those people I wasn't sold on.
The combination of not caring enough at any point during this nearly two-year campaign to register, and then suddenly being desperate enough to drive to a Wendy's at nearly midnight on Monday, concerned me. I suspected that, at best, these were people who smoke a lot of pot. At worst, they thought they were voting on the fate of the Baconator. And they were voting to keep it.
Voters could register until 5 p.m. Monday at all kinds of places -- post offices, libraries and county election offices -- but Los Angeles County also set up late-night spots, which included Dodger Stadium, three Starbucks and five Wendy's. I expected to find a lonely guy at a table outside Wendy's being tormented by whatever version of teenage hooligans exist in Burbank -- perhaps four kids in hoodies furiously typing a script about a quirky voter registrar for a scathing short they'd self-finance.
But instead, there were 16 people lined up to hand an election assistant their forms, while another eight were sitting at tables filling in their information. I found out later that more than 1,000 people registered there that night, and the Wendy's manager told me the store made more than $2,000 extra. Although that was good for him, it turns out that a journalist's professionalism suffers when he's interviewing people while trying to suck a chocolate Frosty up a straw.
The first person I saw, to my shock, was someone I knew -- publicist Julia Cohen. I immediately started to make fun of her for registering at the last minute, but she told me she had registered a long time ago but feared that her forms were lost because she didn't get a voter information guide in the mail. She'd spent 25 minutes on the phone and then tried to confirm her registration on a website, but the city's computer server was overwhelmed. She even stopped by the Barack Obama campaign office for advice. Cohen wasn't a slacker. She was an anal-retentive geek.
It turned out that almost everyone I talked to at Wendy's was an incredibly responsible citizen. Jasmine Haskins, 18, said she filled out her registration card when she got her driver's license. "Everyone in our family got a little booklet but me. I was panicking. I've been watching all the debates," she said. "The lady registering people here said that the DMV botches things up." There is no honor among bureaucrats.
