Mystery of the Missing Pollbooth

I (ohio shape that is supposed to be a heart but looks nothing like a heart) voting!

So, I had myself a rollicking good voter time this morning. My first error came in wearing a cape. When you wear a cape, expect mysteries. The address of my voting district did not come up on Google Maps. Google Maps does not think it exists, but how many fire stations can there be? So. I searched, collecting clues along the way. 

My first direction was east along the main highway, narrowly dodging mowers and large trucks carrying large trucks carrying various decomposing debris that looked vaguely steampunk. After ten miles of highway, I turned, decidedly in the other direction. (It was still early enough to be decided) 

After traveling off the beaten track, long meandering trails, I found a fire station, but without any noticeable traffic. No go. This was about half an hour into my meandering. I stopped at the gas station where the nice lady at the counter had no idea what I was talking about. I sincerely doubt she's ever seen anyone wear a cape in real life. She looked a bit stunned, but it might have been the pants. I digress. 

The nice cowboys drinking their coffee gave me a lot of advice, very helpfully, and I was off again, noting that one of them had a particularly nice feather in the front of his hat. Might have to put a feather in something sometime soon. 

I found the voting station! At last! My heart pounded blissfully as I pulled into a high school parking lot, followed the multitude of neat signs and through the door, the slightly creepy basement cafeteria into the bright polling room. 

Unfortunately, It wasn't the right polling destination because I live on the wrong side of the highway. Everyone in the place gave me helpful advice, including people actually voting. I had so many options, I left the place reeling, overwhelmed, undernourished and with a distinct sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, or it might have been starvation because I left before breakfast. Nancy Drew would have had an emergency snack. Sigh. 

Off again, tired, weary, beaten but not broken. I drove the same highway again, searching the hilltops for that elusive fire station. Nothing for miles and miles. I turned again, driving the same path, then happened to see a small, barely noticeable POLLING sign. I missed the turn, but with hope, I made my way back, followed the drive in spite of no other sign in sight, then into a parking lot and lo and behold! THE MISSING POLLBOOTH!!! 

I'm Nancy Drew after all! Now I'm going to bed.