Last month I wrote about taking Moo’s friend Betsy home and how her neighborhood is all windy-dindy.
Robin asked me why I don’t know a shortcut to Betsy’s house. I started to explain, and ended up telling her that when she comes here, I’ll be happy to take her over and show her. Translation: I will be happy to drive aimlessly, with bewilderment, until we get back to a main street.
Now, I’ve decided to show you.
But before I do, let me tell you how it is, and how it has been.
Taking Betsy home is not the first time I’ve ventured into this neighborhood. Far from it. I’ve been in this neighborhood more times than I can count. Growing up, I had friends in this neighborhood, I dated a guy in this neighborhood. I have spent nights there, walked around in it, played basketball in its streets. I am still disoriented while I’m in it.
The streets are all curvy and the names change.
The map doesn’t reflect the name changes, but when I take Betsy home, her street is one name in and another name out. Betsy only knows the way home via her bus route, so when I leave, it’s easier to get out than it was to get in. However, when I try to enter the same way I left the last time, it doesn’t work. I end up driving around with my gut until suddenly the right house appears.
Obviously there is magic afoot.
Now my kids have a handful of friends who live in this neighborhood. I must drop people off and pick people up accordingly.
Today, I asked The Mister to pick the children up.
Here’s an imaginary version of our convo:
“Where is Moo?”
“666 Black Magic Lane.”
“How do I get there? Crossover and take a right on Lost Lane, then a left on what?”
“Just let Siri drag you all around Robin Hood’s Barn and across Hell’s Half Acre. I can’t tell you how to get there. I truly don’t know how I get there. I’m certain I’ve never gone the same way twice. It’s all curves and cul-de-sacs, the street names change.”
*pulls up map*
“I got it.”
“I’m sorry if I’m sensitive to this issue. No one seems to understand. You and your parents have not helped. It’s a fucked-up place over there. It’s not just me.”
I can still remember my mother on the phone with my boyfriend in 1989, “Hang a Louie on Leone.”
Off The Mister went.
When he returned, some time later, I didn’t have to ask him how it went. He said, “That was a nightmare! The phone was tellin me to turn and there wasn’t a turn yet! If I turned right, I’d end up in someone’s yard! I wasn’t at the fuckin street yet! And gettin out was even worse! I just kept turnin left. Felt like a NASCAR driver. Finally made it out to Kitley! Then I saw traffic was movin pretty swiftly, so I figured that was 46th.”
The funniest thing about this is that I have never come out on Kitley. Not once.
Of course, anxiety disorder isn’t a fan of left turns — I probably turn right, cause I’m not a NASCAR fan.
This map may be correct, but also IT LIES.
For a clearer view, Google it, street view it — Go ahead, make yourself sick!
Y’ever been disoriented in a windy-dindy neighborhood?