Q/A

Q: If you’ve lived in Madison for 25 years and have a pretty reliable sense of direction, is it possible to get lost while walking within a mile or two of where you live?
A: Yes.

Q: Is it possible to ask 6 separate people directions to Old Middleton Road when you're stuck on some godforsaken street called Brody Drive and get 6 separate wrong answers?
A: Yes.

Q: When you finally decide to go back to University Ave and you miraculously see the Perkins American flag just a few feet away, can you still face great obstacles like wire fences and prickly thistle before you can reach it?
A: Yes.

Q: Are there bloggers out there who cannot transfer Mapquest pictures onto their blog without taking a photo of the computer screen?
A: Yes.

Q: Does the red star on the map below indicate the place where the author of this post first got lost?
A: Yes.


the scene of a foul mood resulting from overheating, dehydration and being lost 

If you can figure out how to get from the red star to Old Middleton Road, please email me. One woman swore there was a secret tunnel that took you underground right from University Ave to Old Middleton by Knoche's grocery store. If you know of it, I will PAY you if you tell me where it is.

Understanding Ariel

Ariel and I don’t speak the same language. Oh, we both use English words, but our meanings don’t coincide. She works behind the counter at Borders café and I am a frequent customer. I do tip her for the small latte I get, but perhaps she has figured out that once in a while I withhold the quarter and only throw in a dime (I like to keep a quarter around for parking reasons). Or something. She appears sanguine, yet she is completely areal in her approach to her job.

Ariel, I’ll say, the tables really need a wipe. Ariel gives a concerned look and hands over a wet rag. Ariel, a small skinny latte please. She takes the cash, forgets to punch my card, makes the coffee and carries it over to the opposite end of the counter and shouts out to the public “small skinny latte!” I sigh, go over, take my drink, come back to the cash register, give her my card, she punches it.

I have many such Ariel stories, all trivial and all part of my routine now. Someday I’ll have to work out good responses to her, as soon as I figure out why she always does that which, while not wrong, is not right either.