“I’m not lost…”

“…I just don’t know where I am.”

Before I learned how to drive, my sense of direction was practically non-existent. My mother used to joke that I wouldn’t be able to find my way to the school I had attended for 9 years on my own, and as affronted as I’d act, she probably wasn’t wrong. Once I started driving, I got a little better. If I drove it once I’d most likely be able to do it without too much trouble in the future. Though those first trips would usually require a call to my father, who is like some sort of human GPS and would need no more than a street name to put me back on track again. In my first few years of driving, getting lost stressed me out. I’d get frustrated and scared and would usually be in tears by the time I gave up and called my dad. Eventually, I realized that there was no use getting upset about it, getting lost was inevitable. I’d allot extra time when I was headed somewhere new, and if I did have to call my father, I would be laughing.

So it wasn’t really a surprise when I reached the end of the mapquest directions with a car full of friends and still couldn’t find Six Flags.

It didn’t seem possible, we had been on one road for a while and we couldn’t figure out where we had gone wrong on the directions. Plus, we were looking for an AMUSEMENT PARK… Shouldn’t we at least be able to SEE it?

The youngest (and perkiest) of my friends decided she had a solution. She rolled down the window and thrust the top half of her body out of it.  The first person we drove by, she started with “Excuse me! Do you know where…” but by the time she got that out, we were long past them. I slowed down a little but told her we could just pull in somewhere to ask. “No!” she insisted, “I’ll just shorten my question! Keep going!” All of us were laughing now, while she held up six fingers and started yelling: “Six Flags?!” at people.

We eventually found our way there, though none of us ever did figure out exactly where we went wrong in the first place.

After a long day of fun and laughter, we headed home. Once we got out of the city and onto the highway, we were pretty sure we were home free. We sang I Just Can’t Wait to Be King at the top of our lungs, came up with car-appropriate interpretive dance moves to Mulan’s I’ll Make A Man Out Of You, and were laughing in that hearty, tears-in-your-eyes way that comes with being overtired and overwhelmingly happy.

And then I realized we were in Dorchester. I don’t know how much you know about the Boston area, but Dorchester is not exactly known for its…safety. So of course, a group of girls in a car feeling rather loopy, went into a dramatic, exaggerated fake panic. Our brave little toaster asked if she should hang out the window again to ask for directions, to which I promptly replied, “You keep that window closed. If I get you killed, your sister will murder me.”

I did start to get a little stressed, because it’s one thing to get myself lost, but to get a full car of people lost not once, but twice in one day is not exactly morale-boosting. But my friends kept me in good spirits, and a quick call to my dad got us where we needed to go.  I apologized a bunch of times, but was assured that getting lost was just a way to extend the adventure of the day.

~ by Valerie Anne on 05/06/2012.

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