The place where I voted the last couple of times, Bear Lakes Middle School, barely a mile and a half from my front door, had something weird about it Tuesday.

I was looking for campaign posters for my favorite perennial candidate, “Aqui,” but all I saw were students. Thus began a 42-minute scavenger hunt to find my correct polling place.

A couple of kids who appeared to be hiding from a teacher down the corridor directed me, in whispers, to the office. There, a polite secretary allowed that I wasn’t the only confused voter who’d showed up. There was a sign outside on the parking lot gate that would direct me to the proper location, possibly to a church on Village Boulevard, she said.

There was no sign. I headed for the church anyway, two miles down the road, following a lady I’d met in the parking lot who was equally baffled. I couldn’t go wrong at the church; where there’s a votary, I figured, there’s a vote.

But, no. The man at table 1 couldn’t find my name on his list. I should try the ladies at table 2, he said. The ladies at table 2 looked at their list and then directed me to the man at table 1. “But he’s the one who sent me to you,” I told them.

No worries. One of the ladies took charge. She whipped out a thick, yellow tear-pad of forms and started filling in blanks and circling things and putting Xes in boxes. Fill this out, she said, passing me a “Polling Place Affirmation” form.

I need to take this to the Morse geriatric center. They’ll help me, she said, writing directions for me at the bottom of my affirmation.

Things weren’t looking good. I’d been expelled from the school, excommunicated from the church. Now I was being shuffled off to an old age home. I just wanted to vote.

I followed the directions and pulled up to the gate at Morse Life. Sorry, said the guard. You need to make a u-turn, go back out and then go in the next driveway down. What’s the next driveway down from Life? I shivered to think about it.

Finally I pulled into a big, busy parking lot, with cars that had bumper stickers urging kidney donation, with buildings where every facet of the architecture was named after someone. There was the Schaeffer Day Care section; the Harold and Sylvia Kaplan Pavillion; the Edwards Pavillion. And finally, there, near the Barbara and Bernard Green Founder’s Courtyard, was a big red arrow that said “Vote Aqui.”

After 42 minutes of driving and walking and driving and parking, my hunt was over. I voted Aqui and left, only to realize that Aqui’s party wasn’t going to seat his delegates.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, January 29th, 2008 at 3:35 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.