A few days ago, I called the King County Democrats to find out where my caucus location was [m-b]. After repeated busy signals I got through and provided the nice lady with my address. She immediately replied, “Oh, you’ll go to the Fremont Public Library.”

Last night, I double-checked her information using the handy Google Maps overlay at the Washington State Democratic Chair Organization website. I entered my address and, yep, the Fremont Public Library it was. It was in bold letters at the top of the page and the red pin was stuck in its location on the map. “Great, that’s probably 300 yards from my front door,” I thought.

Today, I arrived at the library at 12:30, a full half hour before the caucus was set to begin. The room was full and there were people congregating at a fast clip outside. A lady, without asking, put an Obama sticker on my jacket. I noticed a caucus worker announcing something but all I could hear was, “…you…precinct…know…lines…here.” Then he started using hand gestures in much the same way a flight attendant does.

I just moved from Capitol Hill to Fremont and I wasn’t sure of my precinct number. Sensing that what he was saying applied to me, I walked up and asked. Sure enough, he was asking everyone to verify they were at the correct caucus location and if you didn’t know your precinct number you’d better ask. Come to find out, I was at the wrong location. Despite what the lady at the King County Democrats told me and despite what the Washington State Democratic Chair Organization website indicated, my precinct was caucusing at a Buddhist Church about a mile from where I was standing.

By then it was 12:50 and I was frustrated. Having read several posts over the past week warning me to get to my caucus location early or risk being shut out, I jogged home, hopped in my car and drove to my new (and hopefully correct) location.

I got there right at 1:00 and was relieved to see about 100 people standing in line and more walking toward the church from all directions. I hopped in line and ten minutes later was inside. Once there, I found my precinct table and hopped in another line. The room was packed and sweltering. And if I didn’t know better, I would’ve mistaken it for an Obama campaign office. His signs were plastered everywhere while Clinton’s were conspicuously missing. It took another twenty minutes to get to the front, fill out my name, address, email, phone number, choose whether I wanted to divulge my ethnicity or whether I’m LGBT, and select my choice for President. At that point, a woman began yelling from a small stage that, “Anyone who isn’t going to change their mind can go!” To that, a small cheer erupted and tens of people began leaving. Stressed out and tired, I joined them. As I exited I saw at least 100 people standing in line outside. The time was 1:35 and the caucus hadn’t even begun.