Turn Left at Jesus

I have a horrid sense of direction. Please don't argue with me and say "Oh I am sure it is not that bad" because it is. My favorite argument is "You are good at math, you HAVE to have spatial skills." Oh really? Well, let me call the GRE Board and have them rescind my perfect analytical score since you claim that the two are so intricately linked. Truth be told, I have spatial skills on paper but, in reality, I think I get distracted by too much stuff to be able to get myself around.

I read a survey once that asked "If you could have a full time housekeeper, cook or driver what would you choose?" Obviously, the ONLY reasonable choice is a driver! Shockingly, it got less that 1% of the vote. Not deterred, I assume that it must be a mistake so I set out to do my own survey. So far, I have only two other people in my camp: Alyssa and my mother. Who knew that there were so many people out there who don't hate driving and have a sense of direction? I loathe driving so much I could be a New Yorker (well, if I were trendier and much angrier, I could be a NYer).

But back to the point, at one point in time I moved to Montana. Yep, the things you do for love. Hubby (before he was Hubby) was stationed in Great Falls (think of a neon-laden small town; they passed a law allowing everything to become a "casino" so now every establishment has video poker. Seriously flashing signs that exalt "Country Kitchen and Casino" is not an uncommon sight).

So, the love of my life is in Great Falls so I decide to go to graduate school in Bozeman. Fine, fine. Beautiful town, great economics program, cute apartment, all is well.

The commute is three and a half hours with, literally, three turns. A left at Jesus, a right at the concrete cows and a left at Wendy's. Why would I know street names or highway numbers when you have a landmark like a HUGE-ASS BILLBOARD THAT SAYS "JESUS SAVES." This is, honestly, the largest billboard I have ever seen and it is well-lit 24 hours a day.

So, you know what is coming. After 9 months of making this drive at least once a week, someone turns Jesus off. {Is that a sin?} So I bomb past my turn. About five hours later, I snap out of my Jimmy Buffet revelry and realize two things: 1) I should have been home almost two hours ago and 2) I have NO IDEA where I am. Seriously, not a clue. Of course, Sweetness has put a map in my car but when you don't know where you are maps fall solidly in the "interesting but not compelling" category.

Hummm, what to do, what to do? Of course, being Montana there is not a soul in sight - no gas stations, no "Eat at Joe's" no nothing. Eventually, I see one of those emergency boxes on the side of the road. Perfect! This is a transcript of the conversation:

me "Ummm, can you tell me where I am?"
completely disinterested, not helpful person: "What do you mean?"
me "I am lost which means I don't know where I am. Can you tell me where this box is located."
cdnhp "How do you not know where you are?"
me "Can you do differential equations?"
cdnhp "What's that?"
me "I rest my case. Now can you help me?"
cdnhp "Whatever. You are --- bound on ***." To this day, I still have no idea where I was.
me "Ummm, where precisely is that?" I want to add in "in relation to the Jesus sign but I figure that is too specific for the dimwit on the other end of the line.
cdnhp "What do you mean?"
me "Is that in Montana, Wyoming, Idaho or Canada?"
cdnhp "Are you drunk, stupid or just trying to piss me off?"
me "If those are my only three options, I will have to go with 'stupid' but that moniker kind of hurts."

Eventually, I learn that I am still in Montana so I am pretty happy that I am "only" lost in the 4th largest state. BoNANza, I'm a freakin' genius. This is where the wheels come off of my plan. Instead of getting out the map, locating my own self and going from there to where I want to go... I DRIVE BACK TO JESUS. The former plan did not even dawn on me. I have no sense of direction (I know, I could probably stop it at "no sense") so why risk it? Back three hours to the Jesus sign, left turn and I am back on track. Approximately nine hours later (for a 3 to 3.5 hour drive), I arrive home.

One can only imagine the answering machine messages from Sweetness. They start with "hey call me" and quickly escalate to "calling the highway patrol and alerting the missile crews to be on the look out for you."

What can I say, I am really good at other things... directions are simply not something at which I excel (but, please note, that I did not end that sentence with a preposition).