Getting Lost

I have a pretty good sense of direction, yet whenever I head out to a new place (or even a place that I haven't been to in a while), I'll get turned around once or twice. However, I always find my way back. This happens in Boston. On Friday, I attended one day out of a longer conference which was taking place near the Prudential Center. I wasn't driving, and I didn't bother to print out directions. My ride had done that. After a quick look at them while on the road, I thought to myself "hmm, this doesn't look right." And sure enough, once we took the exit off the pike, I had to ditch the printout all together and just wing it. She didn't have another map and Googlemaps had just little, tantalizing windows of streets. Still, I was able to get us there.

Why does this always happen to me in Boston? I have long since sworn that I will never pick up anyone again from Logan because once exiting the airport I am faced with a choice of two ramps and I pick the wrong one, every damn time. I even have that pause when I think "oh, yeah, I always take the wrong one" and then I'm lost in merging traffic.

And those stupid little turnpike signs which will lead me along the merry path like a will 'o wisp and then just abandon me until I'm wondering where is that damn pilgrim hat? (and don't ask pedestrians because they will LIE to you).

I suppose this is because Miss Kate used to drive us into Cambridge all the time and I didn't really have to learn. Still, once I manage to find Storrow drive, I'm so happy. Last time I personally drove into the city, Alex and I almost got smooshed by a semi making a wide turn. We both yelped and found god.

On the return from my one-day conference, I rode back with another person who, thankfully, knew Boston much better than I did -- although even she had to make one u-turn. She decided to look for the Trader Joe's in Cambridge so she could note its place for future trips. Though she apologized, I told her "no, no. That's okay. I find Boston traffic relaxing." She missed the sarcasm.

The Seven Stages of Driving in Snow

Shock and disbelief: This can't be happening. The weather people said it wouldn't start being bad until one. Why is it snowing at 10? I've got to hurry up and get out of here.

Denial: Oh, I've given myself plenty of time to get home. This should be fine. I made sure I went to bathroom before I left. I have cigarettes and plenty of music. Maybe I can even stop and pick up something on my way home. This will be fine. I just know it.

Bargaining: To whatever superior being is up there, I will do anything you say if that big hill on Route 32 is clear and I can make it up it. Please, please, please.

Guilt: If I die on my mother's birthday (December 13) she will never forgive me.

Anger: Why the freak can't I see out my windshield! Why is the ice freezing on the wipers and now I have only a small spot I can see out of! Why are these people driving so fast! Why are they even on the road? Where's the &*%* snowplow guy??? Why didn't I leave earlier?

Depression: I'll never make it home. I will die in Franklin, CT.

Acceptance and hope: I only have control over my car. I do not control the weather. I do not control the other drivers. I will just aim for that little spot of road I can see that was left by previous drivers. At the next stoplight, I will get out and clear my windshield. I will make it home. You can do it, Wendy. Good girl.

So, it took me three hours to make it home. I left at 11:30. Stuck in traffic at the on-ramp onto 395 and sat there for forty minutes while I watched the snow pile up, knowing it would only get worse once I hit 32. I made it into my door at 2:30. The only time I got really, really stuck (not just fishtailing) was trying to get into my spot. The only car I almost hit was my neighbor's car. Fortunately, a new neighbor who was out shoveling brought some sand over and we cleared the light, fluffy snow. I made it! I'm home!!! I survived!!! I'm sure I'm not the only person who experienced this so I'm hoping everybody else made it safe and sound.