I stood in a reasonable line. Part of the difficulty with line length was staffing. The election officials at this polling place were obviously from the community -- not a one of them was a day under 60, and the person with the binder with the voter names and addresses was doing a lot of squinting and peering. (The polling place is in the office of the retirement community adjacent to my apartment complex.)
Black hoodie count: one.
Arizona uses the sensible machines -- paper ballot with pens and arrows to fill in the blanks, and an electronic scanner. The ballot had legitimately-spaced arrows -- I checked. I donated my ballpoint to the greater good, and left it in the voting booth on purpose.
After that, I headed out and gave plasma. I got there early. I went and stood with the nonsmokers (there's a specific guy who can't be around smoke if he's going to have his pulse low enough to donate). Just as I was teasing the guy in scrubs about the weather, a fellow with a large and smoky cigar came straight for the nonsmoker group. The heart rate nonsmoker, the guy in the scrubs, and I all scattered in different directions, well away from the guy with the cigar. The heart rate nonsmoker explained the situation to him from a distance. It was like human billiards. We reconvened after the cigar guy put the thing out. We were all amused.
