The Lost Art of Getting Lost

My husband gets mad at the fact I have no sense of direction. So I packed up my stuff and right.

I remember getting directions from my Dad when I still lived at home. He wasn’t a “right left” kinda guy, more of a “two blocks north, one block west” navigation guy. I never had the heart to tell him I barely knew which way was up, nevermind north, leaving me frequently, hopelessly lost. As time and technology progressed, so did my strategy for staying on course.

The evolution of GPS:

1. Check out an Atlas from the school library. Bribe a buddy to point out symbols and diagrams. Props to that guy, he was a legend.

2. Spread a monster sized map on the dining room table to plan my route (back when I possessed a functioning memory). Lose my shit trying to fold that fucker up.

3. Print MapQuest directions to take with me. Read while driving, what could go wrong with that?

4. Browse Yahoo for directions to the road less travelled, and email them to my phone.

5. Tell my phone where I want to go…but it already knows.

6. Tell my car where I want to go. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I’m reminded you can’t trust Google maps.

Soon enough, I’ll simply imagine where I want to go and I’ll be there – oh wait, maybe that’s LSD.

Then there were times I drove the correct route to the wrong destination. A plaintive cry would sound from the back seat, “Mom! Where’re you going? I’m going to karate, not basketball!” Buckle up kids, Mama pulls a mean shithook.

Remember the satisfaction of providing directions to someone who pulled over when you were strolling down the street? The happiness you felt knowing you saved a marriage or perhaps a homicide by stopping the endless, futile circling? The husband, (oh, how sexist, you say) having repeatedly refused to stop and ask.

Now, it’s only the Amish who would stop and ask for directions. Anyone else is a suspected serial killer.

My motto is I’d rather show up late than show up homely. Sadly, we can’t blame traffic as an excuse anymore because your car knew about that too. Even impeccably dressed to impress, it’s hard to pull off tardiness these days.

By losing the art of getting lost, we miss the exquisite joy and relief of eventually finding our way. Sometimes you gotta go the extra mile to figure out which way is up!

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  1. Bonnie

    Haha! You had me laughing out loud sitting here drinking my coffee. Oh how I can relate to this! .

  2. Karen Hawkes

    I hear ya sistas – I’m also the worst nagigator!

  3. Catherine

    Yes, so funny but so relateable! As the designated holiday navigator, with the ‘help’ of GPS, we’ve seen many extra destinations, dead ends and pedestian only streets! Like the saying goes, “I don’t always go the extra mile but when I do it’s because it missed my exit!”

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