Monday, April 25, 2005
Which Way to the Beach? Seriously, I Don't Know.
Hello. It's just another manic Monday here at the office. The weekend went by pretty fast, but hopefully this week will, too, since I'll be heading to D.C. on Friday morning.
Yesterday, we celebrated my grandfather's birthday at the Chateau in Waltham. My sister came to my house at about 4:15 to pick me up so we could meet my parents, grandfather, and my aunt, uncle, and cousins at the restaurant. Sarah and I had been receiving phone calls from our parents here and there for a few days preceeding the birthday party, offering to give us directions to the Chateau. It wasn't that we had never been there before -- we've probably eaten there about 30 times since we were kids -- but Sarah and I share a common trait: we have no sense of direction.
We had to break this to my Dad a few years back. I feel like it may have been tough on him, seeing as he can give you pinpoint directions to hotels, restaurants, and shopping malls in Boston, Cleveland, or New York, but my sister and I still need "refreshers" on how to get to the house in North Andover where my Aunt Mana and her family has lived in for almost 20 years. Sarah and I have discussed our unfortunate affliction many times before, pondering our shared inability to create a "mental map", remember road names and numbers, or generally follow directions without seeing a map (okay, even when we see it, it's not so easy...I can only imagine the potential contents of the comments section today). So, when plans were made to the Chateau on Sunday, it was understood by all parties involved that we would need directions to get there.
Sarah: Mom just called me and asked me if we needed directions and I said "No!".
Me: But do you know how to get there?
Sarah: No, but I printed out directions from mapquest.
Me: And you're sure they're right?
Sarah: We'll find it.
Me: Okay. We can do this.
That was it. We were on a mission. It was decided that we could not call for additional directions simply out of principle, since Sarah turned down the offer for help. Sarah drove and I was given the two-page print out of the directions, given my nightmare assignment of navigator. We were headed in the right direction (though we can never be positive), but then I couldn't figure out what step we were on in the directions, because I had only been guiding us by what looked familiar at that point. We kept on driving and I no longer knew if we were on the right path.
Sarah: Oh no.
Me: Oh, God. We're idiots. I'm an idiot.
Sarah: We have to get there. We can't call!
Me: I know, I know! I'm not sure where to go, though. I think we turn left here.
Sarah: Are you sure?
Me: No.
Sarah: Oh, God. What is wrong with us?
After continuing to drive, we approached a road that I recognized from the directions, and we were back on track. We thought we missed another road, and were about to turn around when Sarah insisted that we go a little further and check out the next street, which ended up being the one we were looking for. Score. We were going to do this. Sarah drove to the end of the street and there, to our left, the Chateau shone like a beacon. We had done the impossible: two twenty-somethings had found a well-known restaurant in a nearby town without a lot of help. The was much excitement, with a celebratory high five crowning the moment of truth. We were not entirely retarded, and nobody could take that away from us.
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Yesterday, we celebrated my grandfather's birthday at the Chateau in Waltham. My sister came to my house at about 4:15 to pick me up so we could meet my parents, grandfather, and my aunt, uncle, and cousins at the restaurant. Sarah and I had been receiving phone calls from our parents here and there for a few days preceeding the birthday party, offering to give us directions to the Chateau. It wasn't that we had never been there before -- we've probably eaten there about 30 times since we were kids -- but Sarah and I share a common trait: we have no sense of direction.
We had to break this to my Dad a few years back. I feel like it may have been tough on him, seeing as he can give you pinpoint directions to hotels, restaurants, and shopping malls in Boston, Cleveland, or New York, but my sister and I still need "refreshers" on how to get to the house in North Andover where my Aunt Mana and her family has lived in for almost 20 years. Sarah and I have discussed our unfortunate affliction many times before, pondering our shared inability to create a "mental map", remember road names and numbers, or generally follow directions without seeing a map (okay, even when we see it, it's not so easy...I can only imagine the potential contents of the comments section today). So, when plans were made to the Chateau on Sunday, it was understood by all parties involved that we would need directions to get there.
Sarah: Mom just called me and asked me if we needed directions and I said "No!".
Me: But do you know how to get there?
Sarah: No, but I printed out directions from mapquest.
Me: And you're sure they're right?
Sarah: We'll find it.
Me: Okay. We can do this.
That was it. We were on a mission. It was decided that we could not call for additional directions simply out of principle, since Sarah turned down the offer for help. Sarah drove and I was given the two-page print out of the directions, given my nightmare assignment of navigator. We were headed in the right direction (though we can never be positive), but then I couldn't figure out what step we were on in the directions, because I had only been guiding us by what looked familiar at that point. We kept on driving and I no longer knew if we were on the right path.
Sarah: Oh no.
Me: Oh, God. We're idiots. I'm an idiot.
Sarah: We have to get there. We can't call!
Me: I know, I know! I'm not sure where to go, though. I think we turn left here.
Sarah: Are you sure?
Me: No.
Sarah: Oh, God. What is wrong with us?
After continuing to drive, we approached a road that I recognized from the directions, and we were back on track. We thought we missed another road, and were about to turn around when Sarah insisted that we go a little further and check out the next street, which ended up being the one we were looking for. Score. We were going to do this. Sarah drove to the end of the street and there, to our left, the Chateau shone like a beacon. We had done the impossible: two twenty-somethings had found a well-known restaurant in a nearby town without a lot of help. The was much excitement, with a celebratory high five crowning the moment of truth. We were not entirely retarded, and nobody could take that away from us.
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