I'm not good at following directions.
Which is the first thing you have to understand about me to get the story I am about to relate. Seriously, I am one of the most directionally challenged people alive. My brain is all like,
"Oh, the directions say to go left? Well, we'd better turn right instead, because obviously this whole "turn left" business is just a giant plot to get us lost."
Which is usually how I end up hopelessly lost.
Which is EXACTLY what happened to me last Friday.
So, as an English Lit. major trying to get my teaching certificate, it is required for me to have a certain amount of observation hours in a school setting. This semester, I was assigned to Booker T. Washington Magnet High School. This particular school happens to be about two minutes away from Huntingdon and it takes all of two turns to get there. But somehow, I still managed to end up on the interstate going in the OPPOSITE direction of where I needed to go.
So there I was, driving along the interstate in the general direction of Georgia, screaming at my car for getting me lost, when I see a sign that has a familiar road name on it. I turn to find myself in a really swanky suburb. I'm talking high class, people. I saw a woman walking her dog while wearing high heels and what looked like a cocktail dress. Like, "Oh no, I have to go outside. I'd better dress like I'm going to the Oscars. If someone saw me in jeans they might think I was middle class, and I can't have that."
Anyway, I pull up in the driveway of one of the houses that has a woman sitting on the front porch. I tell her how lost I am, and ask for directions, which she is happy to give.
Unfortunately, as we already discussed, I am utterly incapable of following those. It's like I'm trying to decipher ancient hieroglyphics.
So, about thirty minutes later, I am again completely lost and not only screaming at my poor car, but also at the cars passing me.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, MR. BIGSHOT "I DRIVE A MERCEDES"?!? YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME??? I WILL CRUSH YOU!!!!"
"HOW DARE YOU PASS ME!!! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!? YOU SHOULD BE HONORED TO FOLLOW ME!!!!!!"
"DID I SERIOUSLY JUST SEE YOU THROW A MCDONALD'S WRAPPER OUT YOUR WINDOW?!? PEOPLE LIKE YOU ARE THE CAUSES OF TEENAGE OBESITY AND GLOBAL WARMING!!!!"
Things went on in this fashion for a while, until I decided I could no longer go on. I pulled over to the first patch of grass I saw, got out of my car, and sat down, high heels and fancy dress and all, in the grass, and sobbed hysterically like a little 5 year-old. Suddenly I hear a voice say, "Do you want some lemonade, dearie?" I look up from my self-pity fest to see a kind looking woman in her seventies. I wail that I don't want lemonade. I want my mother and also I want directions. This poor old woman takes me inside her house (apparently I was sitting in her front yard) and gives me lemonade anyway. In retrospect, drinking it was probably a bad idea, because she totally could have been a rapist, even though she seemed nice. Anyway, she called the operator and got me directions yet again, waited for my hysterics to subside, and sent me off.
Well, we all know what happened.
Twenty minutes later, I am yet again lost. Except this time I'm afraid to pull over anywhere because I have somehow landed myself in the straight- up ghetto. We're talking the PROJECTS, people. I was afraid I would get shot if I pulled over. However, while trying to find a place to turn around, I see a group of police cars parked in front of one particularly shabby looking house. My mind, of course, goes "YAAAAAAY POLICE!!!! POLICE OFFICERS CAN GIVE ME DIRECTIONS AND KEEP ME FROM GETTING SHOT!!!"
So, I pull over, and get out of my car. I teeter totter my way over to the police officers in my little high heels, while saying, "Hello! I need assistance!! I'm lost! Can you help me?"
One of the officers turns to me to say something, but at that same moment MORE officers burst out of the house, holding a struggling man. It is at this point that I realize, I have interrupted a drug bust.
I watch in shock as this man is dragged to one of the squad cars, stuffed into the backseat, and taken away. The other officers follow.
I am left standing in the front yard of this drug-busted house, alone in my high heels.
I slowly turn and walk back to my car.
I drive until I see a semi-respectable looking Firestone Auto Shop, pull in the parking lot, call a friend to come save me, and promptly have a mental breakdown. By the time my friend got there to rescue me, I was huddled in my car in a sobbing, twitchy mess.
To make things worse, my car was now on empty. So we made our way to a gas station down the street. As I am waiting outside the gas station while my friend pays for the gas, a rather older man comes to stand next to me. I decide to pretend he isn't there until he goes, "Hey." I look over and decide if he was going to stab, kidnap, and/or murder me, he would have done it already, and tentatively answer, "Hello." He gives me quite possibly the creepiest look I have ever received in my life, looks me down, and goes, "Those are some nice legs you've got there, girlie."
I stand there dumbfounded until my friend comes out of the gas station and pulls me away from the creeper. I get back in my car, zombielike, and follow my friend back to campus. By this time, I have completely missed my observation hours, I have taken lemonade from a possible old woman rapist, I have successfully interrupted a drug bust, and I have been sexually harassed at a gas station.
It's all I can do to crawl in my bed.
This was four days ago, and I am still in shock. I fail to understand how I evaded getting kidnapped, raped, murdered, or at the very least sold into prostitution. God must really, really like me.
I seriously need to invest in a GPS.