MadMup.com

On Tuesday I went down to Indy to meet my brother (and Dr. S.) for dinner. They were in town for a two-day training seminar and Tuesday night was the best night for us to get together. Michael (mi hermano) emailed me where they were staying, so I Googlemapped it and printed out the step-by-step instructions. I studied the route a few times and obsessively looked at it every few seconds once I got to Indy, on the off-chance that I had missed a turn. I arrived at their hotel without incident, and Dr. S. knew the area well enough that we found the mall and places to eat without too much trouble. After dinner and walking around the mall a bit, I dropped them back off at their hotel and Dr. S. gave me directions back to the interstate.

In, out, no problem. Home by 11:30.

Now rewind to last week...

A friend of mine (who shall remain nameless) put up a "Hey, I'm going to Indy to get some camping gear, anyone want to go along?" post on his blog. "Sure, sounds fun," I said. "Hey, while we're there, can we stop by this one other store?" Sure.

So on Thursday I find the address to my store and print out the directions, making sure to get the phone number, just in case. He (let's call him "L") and another fellow ("B") picked me up around 7 and we headed out.

About ten minutes into the trip, I ask L, "So, what's this store we're going to?"

L: "Oh, I'm not really sure."

Me: "I'm sorry, what?"

L: "Well, I know it's on 86th Street near the mall."

(It should be noted at this point that there are about a grillion stores on 86th Street.)

Me: "Um, so you don't know the name of the store?"

L: "It'll be fine. We'll find it."

Me: ". . ."

L: "And if we don't, it'll be fine. We'll be fine."

Me: [strangled noise emanates from throat]

L: "If you're so worried about it, call W. and have her look it up."

Me: [dialing W. before he'd finished the sentence] "Okay."

At this point, the conversation becomes downright surreal.

L: "Have her search for xyz."

W: "Nothing. Oh, wait - is this it?"

L: "No... that doesn't sound right. Wait, have her search for abc."

W: "Is this it?"

L: "No... I don't think so. Here, let me talk to her."

Me: "You keep driving!" (We were, as they say, making good time. I didn't want L. to be distracted.)

L: "Oh, wait, I remember. I went to the site and used their Site Locator!"

Me: "This information could have been handier twenty minutes ago."

W: "Here is the address and the phone number."

Me: "Bless you. You may have saved L.'s life and me from a lifetime in the joint for murder."

Whew. That was a relief. Now to call the store to confirm their hours and where they are.

Disconnected. No alternate number given.

At this point, I am, of course, envisioning that we will be lost forever and I'm wondering how long it took the Donner Party to take extreme measures and I am kind of hungry already...

L: "Hey, we'll just go to this other store. It'll be fine."

So we ended up going to the other store. And they didn't have the stuff he was looking for. But then we went for Italian food and came back home and everything was fine. And we had a great time, to boot.

I'm not sure when I turned into this guy, but the idea of driving without a specific destination in mind just about killed me. I don't do so well with the "no plans" parts of life, but not in every "no plans" part. That's the part I really don't get - why am I so OCD about some stuff, but not all stuff?

Labels: driving, friends, OCD

6 comments

Well, folks, you are reading the ramblings of an idiot, and I have proof.

I ran out of gas on the way home from visiting some friends. I was 30 miles north of Lafayette on I-65 and my car just stopped running. I drifted off to the side of the interstate and was able to restart the van and go for about another mile before it died again.

I called the State Police to let them know my van was going to be there while I went in search of some gas, and they said, "Please stay with your vehicle. We have someone on the way." "Great!" I thought. "They'll bring me gas and I'll be on my way!"

About twenty minutes later, a trooper shows up. "Are you sure you're out of gas?"

I was. He had me put it in neutral and pushed me farther over to the side of the road, then pointed me to a spot between his vehicle and mine. "Stand right there, sir." I learned long ago not to argue with people who are a) helping you out, and b) carrying guns, so I stood where he pointed. I watched as he went to the front passenger seat of his car and moved some things to the back seat. As he came back towards me, he was putting on a pair of gloves.

"I need to pat you down."

"Pat me down?"

"It's like frisking, only less 'personal'."

He had me interlock my fingers behind my back as he checked to make sure I wasn't carrying anything dangerous. To anyone driving past, I'm sure it looked like your standard everyday bust of an idiot in a minivan. When he had ascertained my biggest weapon was my sheer stupidity, he let me get in the car. He drove me 5 miles to a gas station and left me there with some business cards for tow trucks in the area. "I'm not allowed to transport fuel in my vehicle," he said. The smart aleck in me immediately thought, "What does your vehicle run on then?" but I was able to suppress him.

The lady at the gas station was more than happy to let me use their gas can, but her husband had the car and she didn't know when he'd be back to give me a ride.

Then a customer walked in, and I did a dumb thing: I asked him for a ride.

After much pleading on my part and reassurances that I was not a lunatic and that, yes, I would gladly give my information to the nice lady behind the counter, he agreed and took me and my little gas can the five miles back to my van. Well, he took me to the north-bound side of the road opposite my car, but that was fine. I played my own personal game of Frogger and got over to my van safely, put the gas in, and drove back to the gas station to fill up and retrieve my driver's license. It cost me $30, but I didn't care. I also bought a bottle of Nestea Lemon Iced Tea, an experiment for me, as I normally only drink raspberry iced tea. They didn't have raspberry, and I was thirsty.

I got back into my van and headed down the road, happy to be on my way. I opened the tea...and it spilled all over me. Did you know that tea stains jeans? I didn't, but I do now.

But you know what? That tea was pretty good.

Labels: driving

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