I hate directions




It’s the one thing I’ll back down from in a group, on an interview, or in front of anyone I would be trying to impress. That’s why my life was all the more awesome this morning during (week 2) of my new job…doing a ‘usual’ drive from downtown to my boss’s offices when my GPS died. Yes, I have apparently attended school at the university five minutes away for almost four years and yes, I have only been away one year, but I don’t know where anything is. Ten more years here probably couldn’t teach me that. My only redemptive directional qualities came from living in New York. I learned things like..’North,’ ‘South,’ ‘East,’ and ‘West.’ I learned that the numbered streets are parallel, and the further north you go the higher the number. Avenues worked the same respectively in the Westward direction. But nnnooooo, not in Fort Worth. In fort worth there are Loops, Spurs, Interstates, and confusing street names. You can actually be headed south on a road labeled ‘West.’ It’s a wonder. And even this is no match for Kansas. I’ve never seen so many establishments that you can see, right there in front of your own two eyes, and spend over ten minutes circling, weaving, and u-turning at medians to get to.

So I cruised around, trying to act cool while my phone froze for almost 16 minutes (meaning: I cannot access my GPS, nor can I call anyone), with Fouboutins that I hated in my passenger’s seat. It was not a good day. I became reckless in ‘my’ Cadillac (a generous and hilarious gift from Bryan’s grandparents). It drives like a boat and sometimes makes me lazy enough to cruise in it like one. It made me miss my car, which I sold to move to New York…the place where I was never going to return from- ring a bell?

Yes, the “V” was my baby. She was equally as dominant as this Cadillac, except a little sharper on the edges. Both black, both boxy, both vehicles I will never get pulled over in because they scream ‘over-sixty’ and ‘innocent female.’ We had been through a lot together. I had worn out her emergency breaks in a heartbeat and had ‘accidentally’ driven with her parking break on for the first three months. I also frequently filled up her tank with gas while leaving the car running. These are the things they don’t exactly teach you in drivers ed.

Back in the day, I had quite the experience with my Volvo. To this day I will still fault my brother as the cause of this debacle, but he wasn’t ever the one who had to pay up. After one of his adventurous boyscout camping trips, he had gotten ‘too close to the fire’ in his new Nike breakaway pants, essentially scorching them. These pants were $50 and he didn’t have the money at the time but was afraid of telling my mom. He begged me so much that I said fine, drove my car to the nearest sporting goods store, and used my money to replace said pants. On my way home, I decided to stop in and say hi to my (then) boyfriend. As I was driving down one of the busier intersections, I was keeping my eyes on the lights ahead. There were three sets of lights in about 200 yards and it was hard to see. I blew through the first one (while looking at the second one) and didn’t know what hit me until three northbound cars did. I spun two different directions, and when all was said and done…I kept driving forward because I hadn’t even taken my foot off the break. The two cars who didn’t flee were super angry, no doubt. I was humiliated. I got a ticket for running a red light, as if I were going to try that feat again…as if the increase in monthly insurance and the deductible weren’t going to teach me a lesson. I tried to get my brother to pay up, but he refused. Needless to say, his secret about the pantalones didn’t last very long, but luckily for him, my mom wasn’t too concerned about his fired trousers after what I’d done.

It’s no secret that I’d recommend you calling ‘shotgun’ for the drivers side if you have a chance. And don’t even dare to ask me for directions in Tampa, I’ve washed my hands of that mess.

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