Asking Directions

This morning as I walked down to the coffee shop in Newtonville, I was queried twice by people who actually stopped their vehicles in the middle of intersections to get directions from me. Do I really look that knowledgeable? They probably thought I was a seasoned student - in my Keens, big green backpack and quirky t-shirt, listening to my iPod and walking purposefully toward my destination. I was confident enough with the first request but, as I usually do when looking back upon all the bad directions I've been given in my life, worried for the next three blocks whether or not I was correct.

I distrusted myself so much, in fact, that merely five minutes later I shrugged at the next woman who stopped her car in the middle of the intersection to ask me directions to Boston College. But even this time, as I had let myself off to hook from giving bad directions by giving no directions, I realized I knew exactly where Boston College was, that she was on the right road, and all I had to do was tell her to keep going and look out for it on her right. I hoped that perhaps she would find it anyway - she wasn't that far away - and not curse me for all eternity for being so ignorant.

How is it that lost out-of-towners always end up asking ask other lost out-of-towners for
directions? I do it too: when I'm somewhere I don't know, I manage to ask the only other visitor where to go, and am never surprised when they turn to me, their deer-in-the-headlights eyes mirroring mine, and shrug. "I'm so sorry," they say, "I don't live here." And I understand and look for the next sucker, who, half the time, doesn't live there either.

I suppose I should feel relieved that I no longer look lost, at least not on the streets close to home. That means I'm becoming more confident and familiar with my area. Has it really only been three weeks since Kristi and I rolled into town? I feel I've been here much longer. And, obviously, I look it too - I doubt drivers risk mid-intersection pileups to query just anyone. Although this is Boston. Risking mid-intersection pileups seems to be par for the course.

Another reason I choose to walk.