Thursday, December 22, 2005

Giving the gift of bad directions.

Yesterday I had just gotten off of the freeway on my way to work, and some well-dressed dude in an executive-type automobile asked me the best way to get to a certain freeway. I briefly contemplated messing with him, but then I figured since he was actually polite and seemed like a decent fellow, I'd tell him how to get there.

If only I could get the stupid words out of my mouth. For one thing, my tongue was frozen to the roof of my mouth from the exhiliration of riding on the freeway in cold weather. And the other thing was, I couldn't think of how to get to the stupid road. Meanwhile, the stoplight had turned green again. I finally stammered through giving him the directions and we took off before the traffic behind us got too angry.

Of course, once we started rolling, I realized there was a better way to go. So, I waved to him to stop, and told him the GOOD way to go.

After all that, I rode off, feeling rather abashed by my early morning incoherence. You see, I hadn't managed to be much more lucid the second time I talked to him. That poor bastard is probably still driving around the Chandler, AZ area looking for the freeway.

Note to self: before first coffee of the day, reply to any question with "Sorry, I don't know."

1 comment:

Der_General said...

This happens to me all the time - for some reason, my brain just locks up completely when someone asks for directions. I want to be helpful, but usually wind up mumbling something about "sorry, I'm not familiar with this area..."