Caucusing in Washington state is nothing like caucusing in Iowa. Iowa's caucuses are built for show, for the media. They're dramatic and they follow a narrative. Washington's caucuses follow a series of boring rules, and they're almost as undramatic as filling out a tax form, or waiting in line to renew your driver's license. It wouldn't be honest to say the scene at Roosevelt High School was chaotic. It was really more bureaucratic. If you didn't have your voter registration card—and most people didn't have their voter registration cards—you had to wait in line and then wait for some folks to hunt-and-peck your name into a state election site to confirm you were registered. Once they did that, they'd lead you over to your precinct sign-in line and give you the okay.

The little lobby outside Roosevelt's gym was packed with people. Many wore Ron Paul buttons, and some of those Ron Paul fans took directions from suit-wearing folks who were obviously trained by the Ron Paul campaign to coordinate the somewhat-secret delegate strategy. Because nobody else in my precinct bothered to show up for the caucuses, I automatically became my precinct's Committee Officer, which the paperwork describes as "the Permanent Chairman of the caucus and an Automatic Delegate to their Legislative Caucus and the KCGOP Convention 4/28/2012." Once inside the gym, looking around at the bleachers, you had your clusters of older folks—most of whom, it seemed, were Romney fans—surrounded at about three-to-one by Ron Paul supporters.

The party representatives who were there to oversee the caucuses were petulant and unhelpful. When Ron Paul supporters called a point of order about the line on the registration form that announced that your signature was to "certify that he/she is a member of the Republican Party"—"just because I'm here for Ron Paul doesn't mean I want to align myself with these guys," a suit-wearing young man near me grumbled—the party representative said "the rule is not open to interpretation," that there was no crime in keeping the caucuses closed to members of the party, and he explained that "there is no membership fee to join the Republican Party," so they had nothing to complain about. I signed the form with a clear conscience. Since I've attended every candidate's rally within a train ride's distance from Seattle and watched every single one of the 20 Republican debates over the last few months, I'm probably more Republican than Democrat at this point just based on how much rhetoric I've absorbed. Besides, I was pretty grumpy when I woke up this morning. Maybe next month, I'll be feeling more Democrat than Republican. Who knows?

The rest of the process was discussed, occasionally at painstaking length. We were told that delegates would be assigned by a straight-up vote. Fifty percent plus one meant you were a delegate. A Ron Paul fan asked if a precinct only had two caucusers and both caucusers refused to vote for the other, what would happen. He was told, snippily, that "we will cross that bridge when we come to it." An older woman asked "if 100% of the vote met the threshold for victory." She was told that, yes, if you received all of the votes, then you won the vote.

Every caucusgoer was given a questionnaire to fill out. We were told that the questionnaire results would shape the platform of the Washington state Republican Party, and that "we actually care what you think." I dutifully filled out my form. As a Republican, I am very concerned about making sure that "government should be in charge of our health care system, to ensure that every person has health coverage," that same-sex marriage should be legal, and that abortions should be safe and taxpayer-funded. I suppose I'm kind of a modified New Deal/Roosevelt Republican, if you wanted to put me into a box and smother me with labels.

And then the caucus began. Other precincts voted for delegates and took a straw poll on which candidate they supported. Since I was a precinct of one—with three delegates to our name—I caucused myself, long and hard. As a Republican, I had a very hard choice to make. Mitt Romney was automatically out. I believed that he would say or do anything he could to get into office, and he would not at all adhere to my Republican values. Ron Paul was automatically out, too, because I'm not a gold-hoarding sociopath or an idiot who has no idea how government actually works. But that left two very viable choices. On the one hand, you had Newt Gingrich. Newt Gingrich won my heart with his smug and irascible nature, his long history of sexual conquests, and—most importantly—Herman Cain's endorsement. If I could not ensure that Herman Cain became president, a Newt Gingrich presidency would be the next best thing. Perhaps he would make Herman Cain vice president, or secretary of commerce, or (dare I hope?) a Supreme Court Justice? (That last option was the most tantalizing for me—after all, I love supreme pizza!) But on the other hand, you had Rick Santorum.

Rick Santorum is a complicated man. On the one hand, he stands against all of my values as a Republican—I'm a pro-gay-marriage and pro-government-funded contraception Republican, he's a bigoted Opus Dei freak. My Republican values, such as a strong separation of church and state, are vitally important to me. But on the other hand, I believe that Mitt Romney is on the verge of capturing the Republican nomination, and I can't stand Mitt Romney. I believe that Rick Santorum is the candidate with the best chance to steal the nomination from Mitt Romney. He is, if you will, the most electable. As a Republican, I want to make sure my party doesn't embarrass itself with a Romney candidacy, and the best way to do that is by caucusing for Rick Santorum. (And if Santorum won, and had to face Obama in the fall, what would I do in November when it came time to vote, you ask? Well, who knows? Identity is fluid, and I'm not even sure if I'll still be a Republican by then.) So my choice became obvious. I had to hope that Herman Cain would find it in his heart to forgive me. As the Republican Precinct Committee Officer and sole caucusgoer for my precinct, I picked Rick, and declared Rick Santorum as my presidential preference.

After that, it was easy. As I was the only Republican in my precinct, I didn't have to vote to see who would be attending the King County Republican Convention on April 28th that we were assured would be happening "somewhere in Bellevue"—my invitation was automatic. Hopefully, I'll be attending with at least one other likeminded Santorum supporter (and Stranger employee). Now all I can do is sit, and wait, and hope. The announcement of the results will come from my fellow Republicans at 5 pm today. To be honest, I suspect Romney is going to win. And even if he does, you know what? That's okay. I did my part. I voted my conscience. I helped spread Santorum throughout my precinct. I took part in democracy, and democracy is what makes America great.