“Shirley, I’ve been doing this for 20 years, I know where the book goes. We don’t want to look bad in front of the governor.”

Those were the first words I heard as I proudly made my way up to the desk at my polling station, the auditorium at Kenter Canyon Elementary School. Having turned 18 last July, Super Tuesday on Feb. 5 was the first election that I could vote in, and it truly was a seminal moment.

News cameras from all the major networks came out to cover my first vote, and there was even a podium set up for me to make a statement. Flash bulbs snapped and microphones were shoved in my face as I walked out of my car and made my way up the stairs to the auditorium.

“How does it feel that your state actually has an effect on an election?” asked a reporter from ABC.

I was about to retort, but I was cut off by a surly Eastern European accent with a million dollar smile.
“If I were on the ballot, I would terminate the other candidates,” replied Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger with unwavering confidence.

Okay, so maybe that didn’t happen, but I was still able to cast my first vote under the shadow of the Austrian bodybuilder turned actor turned governor of California and with Shirley and Caroline bickering behind the polling desk. Schwarzenegger, who lives close to me, votes at the same polling station as I do and actually entered the auditorium accompanied by news cameras as I was leaving.

I woke up early so I could be at the polling place when it opened (also with the mental image of arrogantly showing off my “I Voted” sticker to all my friends).

My first impression of the American electoral process is the amount of small print that is not conducive to bad eyesight. Yet for some reason all the people who work at the polls remember the time they elected FDR.

So after much debate by the poll workers about whether the registered voter book should be on the right side of the table or the left side of the table, I finally received my Democratic ballot and made my way to the booth and my first experience with the ink mark process.
Again, not conducive to the elderly and the ignorant.

So now came the questions that I had put off up until now. Hillary or Obama? Respect the Indians or balance the budget?

Seconds after marking my choice, I heard glaring from the television behind me: “Michael Kaplan endorses Barack Obama.”

Okay, so that didn’t happen either, but I did vote Barack after much deliberation. Maybe it was a little part of me that bought into the candidate for change, hope, and unity. Maybe it was the fact that he actually showed concern for the young. Or maybe it was the fact that I wanted to rebel against my Clinton-supporting parents—I mean the last President was from their generation and look how well that turned out.

I also voted “Yes” on Propositions 94, 95, 96 and 97 because Arnie told me to as I was walking in. I told him that I enjoyed his performance in "Jingle All the Way" and I owed it to him. No but seriously, our budget needs help and if the entire California legislature is in favor of it, how stupid can it be?

I finished marking my ballot, and handed it to the Lyndon Johnson lookalike who then, after one failed attempt of putting the ballot in the machine backwards, told me that I had successfully cast my vote.

Patriotically sporting my “I Voted” sticker, I walked past the news cameras and up the podium for a statement.