No Direction

It is so cute that people think I know how to read maps! You would think that would be an easy skill; for me, it is not. I read maps the way I swim - kinda. Please use the term in a sentence? Alright. "I kinda swim just enough to stay afloat until I'm rescued, provided that rescue takes place within two seconds, max." I have had to have friends rescue me from my map reading mishaps as they've talked me across entire states to get from point "A" to point "B". It's the reason why I keep my passport with me. If I end up in Canada, I can get out, eh?

While I was in Florida, I had to get to Fort Lauderdale from my hotel for a shoot. I went down to the from desk to ask how far I was from the beach. "Not that far," says the man behind the desk, and reaches for A MAP. "Listen, buddy," I think to myself, "I'm sure you're very nice, but better men than you have tried to teach me how to read those things." My husband only made it as far as getting me to understand the odd numbered interstates run North to South and the even numbered ones ran East to West before smoke started pouring out of his ears.

"I'm sorry; I can't read maps," I reply. "Oh that's OK," says the man behind the desk. "It's very simple."

(*SIGH!* Does he have any idea how many of my trips start out like this, and end up in hours of "where the hell AM I?!")

I didn't want to dash his hopes that he'd been helpful and done his job, so I took the map and walked out to the car. Well, at least I had a full tank of gas. Go straight, make a right; go straight and end at the beach. By the end of the trip, I felt quite smug with myself because I didn't get lost. Travel to the coffee shop where I was supposed to meet someone, however...?

I'm just going to start tying one end of a very large ball of twine to the doorknob before I go anywhere.