Directionless

[muckefuck]

Last night, I thought I might be dining out with friends (and it might've been better if I had, since I ended up making some poor food choices on my own) so I was killing time in E-ton as I waited to hear from them. I grabbed a bagel from Panera (alas! the XXXtreme cutie I discovered working there on Tuesday was nowhere to be found) and found a lovely street corner to munch it on. People were out, music was playing (Chef's Station, across the street, had hired a jazz combo to serenade the outdoor diners which weren't there), the breeze was blowing, the sun was setting.

Two middle-class teenagers of different races came up to me and one asked, "How far is it to Wilmette?"

"What do you mean? You mean to walk?"

"Yeah. A mile?"

I hemmed. I admit, I really suck at being asked to give directions. Perhaps you could call it a form of performance anxiety, but when someone asks me out of the blue how to get someplace, I suddenly become terribly unsure of facts I would spout in all confidence if I were directing someone to a place I'd thought of first. Like later than evening, spookyfruit asked me where Wellington was. I know exactly where this street is; I used to get off at the Wellington stop on the El all the time. But when he said, "Where do I want to get off the Drive for Wellington? Fullerton?" all that knowledge was wiped from my mind and no amount of straining would restore it. I just stammered like a jackass as he answered his own question.

So it was here. I know where Wilmette is; I've been there a couple of times. But I also know I have a tendency to confuse it with That Other Super Expensive North Shore Suburb What Begins With 'W', so I was stricken with doubt. I ended up saying:

"Maybe more like two. The train goes there, though."

"Which one?"

(The El, you jackass! The train you ride every day! The last station is Wilmette! You've even been there before!) "Uh..." Looking over the tykes head, I saw the Metra station looming. "The Metra goes there."

"What's the stop? Is there more than one?"

"Maybe. What part do you need to get to?"

"Oh, just anywhere in Wilmette."

Comments

[my-tallest.livejournal.com]

Like later than evening, spookyfruit asked me where Wellington was. I know exactly where this street is; I used to get off at the Wellington stop on the El all the time. But when he said, "Where do I want to get off the Drive for Wellington? Fullerton?" all that knowledge was wiped from my mind and no amount of straining would restore it. I just stammered like a jackass as he answered his own question.

Brain... hurting...

Poor neurons. They'd switched over all references to Wellington Street to my new home, and you have to go and get me concentrating on where the hell Wellington is in Chicago. I gave up, went to Mpa Quest, and now I don't know where I live.

[nibadi.livejournal.com]

In einem meiner Reiseführer steht, dass die Menschen in Chicago sooooooooooo hilfsbereit sind, dass sie sich schon mal als Begleiter anbieten. So how about you? :)

[mollpeartree.livejournal.com]

I have the same problem, and I think it has to do with not driving; I tend to navigate by landmarks and the look of the street instead of names and numbers (so much so that I'm really stumped sometimes on how to give directions to things I walk by every day. "Up that way and over a little ...")

[dream-labyrinth.livejournal.com]

Best answer to any question for direction: You can't get there from here.
(Shows I spent a lot of time in Maine)