I’m a
hater! I admit it.
If day or night you know exactly where you
are, where you want to go and how to get there, you are a direction savant
and I hate you; you road sure, path confidant route sage. Direction savants on land or sea, simply
gaze at the fother mucking sky and know the direction in which to move.
I’m disoriented stepping out of the
bathtub. I have to leave a trail of bread crumbs...
to find my way out of Macys.
I came out
of the birth canal backwards!
“Walk
this way”, say the direction sure with a confidence I disdain and
envy.
I have lived in NYC all my life, but
every time I exit the Lexington Avenue subway I have to grab the nearest
Japanese tourist and ask in a faux, non-specific Asian accent: “Which way to
Madison Avenue?”
I have a
sense of direction. And with apologies to Sarah Palin and all who’d be mistakenly
offended, my sense of direction IS retarded.
Yes, I suffer from Geographical Dyslexia.
I’m
convinced that Geographical Dyslexia (my self-created term describing my
direction dysfunction) is just one manifestation* of my unresolved father
issues. Dad, thanks for abandoning me in
utero. I think of you frequently – every
time I walk 3 blocks in the wrong direction.
Dear
Reader** do you know what this disability, Geographical Dyslexia, did to me who learned to drive in the previous century – BEFORE GPS? It resulted in horrors too terrifying and
numerous to recount here. Suffice it to
say that many, many times I have just parked my car roadside, rocked in the fetal
position and sucked my thumb while I cried.
There is a club for the multitudes who have given me directions, Platinum
Membership if they advised me while I clutched a tear stained map. When I look at a map I don’t get which way to
go, I get vertigo!
The
last century is more than a decade in the past you deride. The GPS has come to my rescue, you chide. So what, I scoff. The satellite based GPS is a technological
marvel that mocks my Geographical Dyslexia with every accusatory declaration of
“recalculating.” My GPS and I have a love - HATE
relationship, reminiscent of my erstwhile marriage. My GPS is helpful while condescending and supportive while passive aggressive.
For example…
GPS: In 500 feet get in the left lane, stay in the
left lane, bear left, right turn here.
Me: Right turn here!? Bitch*** this is a six lane highway and I’m in
the left lane!
GPS: Turn around when possible.
Me: The next exit is 6 miles!
GPS: Recalculating, recalculating.
My animosity
is legitimate and fervent. I’m a hater!
*I have math
anxiety and dread computing any scientific formula
**You three
are the delight of my blogging life!
***That’s her
name!
