My first vote was cast on February 5, 2008.

If you’re feeling old right now, I apologize.

I remember that date so well because it was two days after my 18th birthday. As a giant nerd, I was a little too excited to be able to vote in the New York State primary for such a monumental election.

Because I was a first-time voter, the only requirement was that I was 18 on election day, and that I registered at least 30 days before the election. I wanted to be safe, so several months early, I submitted my voter registration form.

That primary fell on Super Tuesday for once, and it was a heated race between Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton. I walked into my polling place — the same one I’d been to for years, when my parents took me with them as they voted.

In New York, you can only vote in the primaries if you’re registered to a party. In 2008, we still had real voting booths — the machines with levers, and those big satisfying CLUNKS as you physically cast your vote and threw the curtain open.

New York also (rightfully so) doesn’t have voter ID laws, so to vote — at least in my precinct — you walk up to the poll monitor and give your name, which is listed in a big book next to your signature. They cover the signature, you sign, they compare — if it’s a match, you vote.

For the primary in 2008, you got a slip of paper labelled “REPUBLICAN” or “DEMOCRAT,” which you handed to a person who would direct you to the appropriate voting booth. Times were different.

I went to vote with my mom. I remember walking up to the table, for the first time as a real voter. Mom let me go first.

For each district, there are two monitors — Republican and Democrat. Yeah, yeah, two party system. They man the table where you sign your name in the book.

The Republican poll monitor quickly found my name in the book. “You’re lucky,” he said, handing me a “DEMOCRAT” slip. “We’ve had people come in who’ve switched parties or registered late, and they weren’t in the book.”

I responded, “Oh, I made sure to register early! I just turned 18 two days ago, but I wanted to make the deadline.”

His face clouded. “Oh, no,” he said.

“You can’t vote.”

“What?” was all I could muster.

“You can’t register before you turn 18,” he said.

“That’s not true,” I protested. “You just have to be 18 by the election, and I am.”

He immediately changed tack and said, “Well, you can’t vote in the primary unless you voted in the last presidential election.”

WHAT?!

This was so ludicrous that the Democrat poll monitor jumped in and started arguing with him.

I still had the “DEMOCRAT” slip in my hand, and they were hotly debating…so I slipped over to the voting booth, handed the proctor my paper, and voted.

CLUNK.

Thirty seconds or so later, I walked back over to the table, where my mom was signing her name in the book.

The Republican poll monitor looked at me and said, “We’ve decided you can vote.”

I pointed to the sticker on my lapel and replied, “I already did.”