Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Girl Directions

When I leave a restaurant bathroom I always turn in the wrong direction. I’ll admit it—I’m directionally impaired.

Getting lost has plagued me since childhood. I remember being on an expressway and thinking my dad was brilliant to navigate the roads. I thought that every time you came to a new overhead sign you had to make a decision on which way to go. Didn’t realize you simply stayed on the expressway until you were ready to exit. Duh.

Three years ago I moved to a new city and was trying to find my way to a writers’ meeting. I was so excited—I’d left a wonderful critique group in Georgia and was hoping to replicate the group here. I consulted a map, feeling like a grown-up as I tracked the route.

All went well—until the last road. It wasn’t there. I drove a half-mile past where it should have been before I gave up and turned around. Then I backtracked a mile. The road simply wasn’t there.

I consulted my map. There it was, big as life. So I tried again. But again, no road by that name or any other appeared where it should have been located. So I tried again. (I know, the definition of crazy is doing the same thing over and over expecting a different outcome. Have you met me?)

This time I noticed a very short gap in the commercial buildings lining the road and a miniature wall off to the side. I was on a bridge? The map hadn’t showed a bridge!

By the time I got to the meeting, 20 minutes late, I was babbling and a bit wild-eyed. Recently one of the guys mentioned that day, laughing: “I thought you were either crazy or just cute.” He still hasn’t told me his final decision—which, now that I think about it, probably tells me his final decision.

I finally bought my husband a GPS which lives in my car and which he doesn’t have a clue how to use. Without the GPS, I need girl directions. Don’t mention compass points, mileage, or bank names. Tell me to turn left at the dead-end, go straight until you pass the big school on the right, then at the next light, where there’s a gas station/car wash, turn right, etc. I will fill up a page with handwritten directions and I will get there. Someday.


  1. Oddly, for a guy, I don't mind stopping to ask directions. I have no need to explore on my own. Also, I can find my way around the mall, find any store, no problem. just don't tell me to go west, or north, or any other compass point. I'm really, really lost that way.

  2. Valerie, Glad to see our conversation the other day led to a blog post. This is still funny even though you told it to me the other day. I, on the other had, can get the absolute worst directions from someone and still get there, usually on time.

  3. I do fine with street names, landmarks, etc., but please don't give me any north/east/south/west style directions! Besides, what road in North Georgia really goes in a specific direction for any length of time??

  4. I followed you here because you mentioned keeping your blog light, or lite, whatever, as long as it's not a red light. I love funny, so I had to visit. I may not be quite as directionally challenged, but I'm always time challenged. You're not in the humor campaign group or I'd have gotten here sooner. But I followed and hope you enjoy my humor and puns too. I actually write fantasy/SF, not sure which.

  5. Bob--Glad to know a guy who admits to not knowing compass points!

    Barbara--I'm still proud of the time we were in Morganton, NC and I was the one who found our way back to the expressway!

    Brenda--I laughed out loud when you said, "what road in North Georgia really goes in a specific direction..." That's true! The roads twist like snake paths!

    Sher--I'll try not to head over to the "red light" district with my blog. If I did, my church people would probably start a prayer circle around me until I mended my ways!

    Thanks, all, for commenting!