I rarely get lost. I love maps enough that I've been known to use them as light reading while eating. They're convenient for that, since they lie much flatter than most books and there's no pesky page turning. I am good at following maps, and enjoy being the navigator on any road trip. I do not trust Mapquest directions; I look something up on GoogleMaps at least 3 or 4 times a week.
This is all to compensate for having the worst sense of direction in the world. It's so bad that if I come to an intersection and my instinct tells me to go north, I go south. I suppose being reliably wrong is just as useful as being right.
There was a corner store a half block from the apartment in which I lived for 1 year and 8 months in Halifax. I went to the store maybe once or twice a month. Every single time I walked out the store door I turned AWAY from my apartment. The apartment I could see clearly when I turned back in the right direction.
Suburbs. If I try to negotiate suburbs without clear and detailed instructions, I will be driving around dead ends and cul-de-sacs for hours, crying in frustration by the time I finally find a main road.
It gets worse when I'm drunk. First, because I follow my instincts. Second, because it can take a long while to realize I should not have followed my instincts. Third, because it takes a really long time to then figure out where my blasted instincts have landed me. And fourth, it takes a really longer time to orient myself and then figure out where I should be going.
I had a crush on a boy several years ago and spent a lot of time drinking at his house. Usually, to my chagrin, with a crowd of other girls who also had crushes on him. But I digress. One of these crazy drinking nights, I walked out of his house on Cooper Street near O'Connor, walking fake sober confident and meaning to head west towards my house on Bronson. In a classic Megan move you may remember from Exhibit A, I turned east. And walked for about 5 minutes until I hit Elgin Street. "Weird," I thought, "This looks a lot like Elgin Street. But it must be Bank, because I'm going home." Your logic will not save you. The light of something being direly wrong only began to dawn when I saw cars reflected in the canal. "But there's no water near my house!" It was a long walk back home. Once I figured out where west was.
Liz and Matt live about 8 blocks away from me. 6 and a half of those blocks are straight down Bronson. I hit Liz's birthday party after having a very very fun time at kareoke with the venus envy gang and a couple of Cosmopolitans. I got to Liz's pretty late and left later, after the better part of a flask of whiskey. Luckily, I left with Jennifer. When we got to the sidewalk, I turned in the wrong direction. When we got to Bronson I stood stupidly at the corner peering up and down the street until Jennifer said "I go this way, you go that way."
So if you see me out somewhere and I seem pretty loopy, and then seem to be leaving by myself, please follow me out and make sure that I'm pointed in the right direction.