There was more action at the bake-sale table than the voting booths at my polling place this afternoon, though this may say more about creeping domesticity in Cobble Hill than the races themselves. When I arrived, a cop was twirling his baton immediately in front of the door of the polling place. In plenty of places, that might look like voter intimidation. In brownstone Brooklyn, it was like the start of a parade.
But the real ground for sociological inquiry is what goes on behind those black curtains. The first guy to vote after I arrived spent what I'd put conservatively at four to five minutes in there. I don't think I could invent enough reasons to spend that much time voting if I tried. I was in and out in maybe 30 seconds, and so was the voter just before me. So what takes some people so much longer? Paralysis in the face of all the tiny levers? Extreme procrastination about deciding which candidates to support? Performance anxiety? Maybe they're just that much more deliberative than the rest of us.