Generally Discontent

Ow. Ugh. Shoot me, for I am stupid.

I figured, now that I'm settled in and have lots of time to myself, that I may as well go out an explore! Exploring is FUN! Well, it's fun when you know where you're going. Wait, scratch that. Exploring can be tons of fun especially when you don't know where you're going, but today's exploration would have been made a tad bit better by the presence of a map, or more than three working brain cells in my head.

All went well until it came time for me to return to the house. I hit the ATM, stopped by Omni Comics (who have a really shitty website, it seems) to pick up a few books, had a shitty cheesesteak at Subway (fuck you, Jared!), and grabbed some smokes at some little smoke shop. I could have walked an extra quarter mile to get my medium ice coffee with cream and sugar at Dunkin Donuts, but I didn't know it was where it is (???). Maybe the extra caffeine would have helped me find my way home, but as it turned out, I was screwed.

Now, I have a good sense of direction. Some might say a great sense of direction. Some might say an astounding sense of direction. Well, probably not. Anyway, while I might not know where I'm going, I usually have a good idea of where I want to be. I also don't make much sense. The point is, my sense of direction chose to betray me, and my inability to remember any of the names of the streets surrounding Jamie and Andrea's house just added salt to my wounded pride.

Here's the thing: their street ends at a park. But I never really got a good look at the park, so I couldn't identify it when I walked RIGHT PAST IT. Hell, I was so focused on trying to figure out if this was THE park, that I didn't look across the street to see Jamie and Andrea's street sitting right there, silently laughing at me, as streets are wont to do.

"Maybe their street is over on the other side of the park. Is this THE park? Boy, it's hot out!" My brain babbled away, no doubt subdued by whatever chemicals were now bursting from the remains of cheesesteak boiling away in my stomach. Yes, that's the only answer: the guy at Subway drugged my food! That's the only reason I can think of why I would keep walking, suddenly all turned around and misdirected and...uh...lost. I got lost real fast. My direction sense had gone tits up.

One street led to another which led to another. I walked until I ended up in a place called Griswoldville, which isn't another town so much as it's just a...historic...area. Or something. I really don't know, but I was there, and there was no escape. I even found a map which seemed to suggest that I was heading in the right direction back to the house, but that map was a goddamn dirty liar. Or, more to the point, I read it wrong.

So, by now I've been walking an hour in 90 degree heat and have proven my stupidity several times over. But unfortunately, I was too stupid to even realize how stupid I was. So I walked. Past farmland, up hills, on roads where they didn't figure they needed those pesky sidewalks, and finally I walked into the next town over.
"Gimme a fuckin' break," I sighed, and walked. But then there was a ray of hope! I came upon a street that Andrea had driven down a few days earlier when she wanted to show me one of the houses that Jamie had lived in as a child. Well hell, this street ain't so far from the house, right? Let's go, feet!

My newfound inspiration to not fall down on the sidewalk and cry was quickly destroyed when I realized that this street was a fuck of a lot longer than I remembered it being. Then again, I'd only been on this street once, and I was in a car at the time. And cars generally move a lot faster than people, in case you didn't know. But what choice did I have? I didn't dare take a side street, lest some cul-de-sac consumes me for all eternity.

Sure, I could have asked for directions. Well, if there were, y'know, people around. But I saw very few human beings who weren't in cars. Coming from a heavily-populated area, this is a very strange thing. Out here, it seems like nobody walks anywhere. Makes sense, since everything is so spread out, but strange nonetheless.

Walking and walking and walking, I finally came to Highland Street or Avenue or Something, and vaguely remembered passing by this very road an hour or so ago. By now I was sweating like a fat guy and my feet chirped merrily that I would have painful blisters the next day, due to the fact that I still hadn't broken in my new shoes, and they weren't exactly tied on tightly. I turned down the familiar street and stomped along until I ended BACK IN FUCKING GRISWOLDVILLE.

Fuck that. I found the fire station that I had passed two hours earlier, figuring I could get directions from the fine fellows inside since all firemen in the country had been upgraded to Greatest American Hero status awhile back, so they would know the way! Plus, they probably had maps and stuff. So I moped up to the two guys standing outside having a chat, and sweatily asked where the fuck my house was. The fireman told me where to go, and I went.

I knew well before I came back to the park where I had screwed up, but by then it didn't matter. I was a wreck. Believe it or not, but I don't usually take spontaneous seven mile hikes, so my legs weren't happy. I wasn't dying or anything, but I just wanted a shower and a chair, which I got once I finally got to the house a few minutes later.

So there's my epic journey into stupidity. But I learned another lesson! And that lesson is: upon entering a new area, buy a fucking map of that area! Moron! AGH!