I’m pretty good about following directions to get to a destination. Often when I was reporting I’d have to go to someone’s home be it in town or the country. That meant directions.
My preference ran to getting road signs and landmarks, and in the rural area, mileage was always help. Each one confirmed the other in my view. After a few years I could hear directions like “turn right after where the old round barn used to be” and I’d be okay.
Most of the time it went well. People commonly give good directions and with an estimate of how long it ought to take me to drive there, I was usually on time. I was even early on occasion.
Except for the Kiss of Death addition. Sometimes my interview subject would say, “You can’t miss it.”
I always found a way to rise to the challenge. Turnoffs were missed; wrong roads were taken.
To my credit I found my way and was only a few minutes late, but it still happened. I’d get close to my destination and then miss it. Signs were rendered invisible. Landmarks vanished.
I’d usually catch on within a few minutes and turn around. Interestingly, the landmarks reappeared after I’d passed and were waiting for me on the return trip.
Once I realized what would happen due to those fateful words I gave myself an extra 15 minutes “get lost” time. It paid off because I’d still miss my mark initially, but I arrived on time.
I’d like to say the getting lost part was fun, but at the time it was frustrating. Now I see it as part of the adventure.
Staring at the Sun
1 hour ago