the story of the lost

OK, I need to expand on something in yesterday’s post. The chronological timetable format did not allow me to elaborate on the lost woman I met somewhere north of watertown center on Rte 16, but damn, it was funny. I forgot how funny this was until I started writing.

So Katsu and I are driving home from the party, where I had drunk some wine. Not enough to get me smashed, or even buzzed, but just enough so that I was really enjoying my cigarettes and occasionally would think to myself, “hey, you know, I smell like merlot.”

So we’re driving. And at a stop light I notice the woman next to us gesturing wildly to roll down the window.

“How do you get to 93 from here?” she asked.

map-boston-area

clearly, she was way the fuck off track.

Like the good samaratin I am, I offered to pull into a nearby parking lot to give her directions. Now, some of you may know that I am a directions Nazi. I stay up at night obsessing about the fastest way of getting from A to B, taking into account the time of day, direction of the sun, and/or weather conditions. My entire day can be ruined by a needessly circuitous route to the grocery store. So in many ways, it was a good thing she ran into ME at 2AM becuase I was going to have the BEST DIRECTIONS EVER to route 93. Sadly for her, there IS no easy way to get to 93 from 16, especially considering the overnight construction on the pike.

When I hopped out of my car to talk to her, things got even sadder. Apparently she had been in Davis Square (!!)

map-boston-area2

and had directions to get to Cape Cod (!!!!) via 93.

ma_east

Somehow she got lost in Cambridge and had been driving around for AN HOUR with TWO CHILDREN ASLEEP IN THE BACKSEAT. Have I mentioned that it was 2am? Because it was definitely 2am. The late hour only served to fan the fires of my directional disorder, and I stood outside her car perusing an atlas for a good ten minutes, suggesting this and that, and it was only when I leaned in the window to point out to her that the best way to the Cape was NOT in fact 93 but 95 to 24 that I got a good whiff of my breath.

And my breath screamed “merlot”.

I think she was a little horrified.

But hey, SHE was the one who was driving to cape cod at 2AM with two kids in tow, so you tell me who was worse off.

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