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.

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.

As I was about to give up, two 18-year-old women walked in -- one of whom was wearing her pajamas. These had to be the slackers I was looking for. But even Alejandra Carrillo, the pajama-ed one, had filled out voter registration forms twice in the last few months and had just forgotten to mail them, so doing this seemed pretty responsible for an 18-year-old.

However, her nonpajama-ed friend, Xenia Cadenas, seemed to be the procrastinator I was hoping for. Cardenas told me she was disappointed that she couldn't register at the drive-through, and stopped midway through filling out the form to make a call. "Dad," she asked, "are we Republican or Democratic?"

(Oct. 25, 2008)