Or Ahoy. Or Allons. Or After you. Or get your ass in the car. Whatever.
We’re embarking on the journey of A-Z.
I am good with the letters, but not with the numbers. It’s like how I’m good with directions but not with street names.
I am a landmark person.
I take a lot of back roads, and I’ve done it so long, I don’t think about the names. Make a left just past the bent stop sign in the cornfield. Turn right after the leaning tree.
Oh I know what order the big streets on my side of town go and I try to teach them to my kids — Meridian, College, Keystone, Allisonville, Sherman, Emerson, Arlington, Shadeland, Franklin, Post, Mitthoeffer, German Church, Cumberland — if you go east of that, you’re on County Road 800 which is to say, Toto, we’re not in Indy anymore.
I do alright on the southeast side, too, because they have some of the same streets…
But I’m sorta infamous for not bein able to drive west.
The Mister can drive west. Drew can drive west. Beauty Queen can drive west. I can get on 70 and drive to Plainfield. Anything farther, any deviation from I70 and I swear there’s a Bermuda triangle or aliens or laughing Greek gods. Somethin happens to me.
Don’t you think all interstate loops should include signage that indicates YOU ARE HERE? Somethin about 465W turns me into Alice of Wonderland. And there has GOT to be an easier way to get to 74 without driving through the spaghetti bowl. What kinda madman puts an exit every 10 feet where people are drivin 900 mph? Does it even make sense that to go west on one road, you must first go west on another? That seems silly to me.
And don’t you hate it when you’re at the four-story mall with too many wings and too many escalators and you know you parked on yellow bunny floor 2 without even lookin at your ticket, but you’ve been through hours of stimulation overload and no longer know which way’s which? Without those YOU ARE HERE maps, I’d end up out on the street, tryin to make out where the sun is hangin in the sky.
But that’s probably what I’ll do to you if you follow me through April’s A-Z. Hell, that might be what I do to you on the regular. I am not frequently accused of makin sense.
*passes out 3-D glasses*
Let’s Shall, Shall We?