The other day, the awesome Maxie posted some secrets of hers. Some were pretty damning (liking Nickelback, pour example!!!). ANYWAY, she mentioned not liking to ask for help, which reminded me of how much I don't like to ask for directions. Much like a man, haha.
The problem? I get lost VERY easily. I can work out where I'm going on a map and then be utterly surprised when the real world isn't map-shaped. Why, for example, is a road straight on a map when in real life? Not so much.
I remember when I started at uni in '97 (yes, THAT long ago, I'm old!!!), I was based at a west end campus of my university. Which was RELATIVELY easy to find (mainly because my dad had taken me to show me where it was and how to get there a week previously). On the last day of orientation week though, I had to go to the main campus to "officially" register. Looking back, I don't know for the LIFE of me how I managed to get lost, but I nearly ended up registering in the wrong university. Ironically the one I didn't have good enough grades to get into. Thankfully I managed to re-orientate myself and get to my destination only a minute or two late. Phew.
My worst getting-lost experience though is the most embarrassing one. Because it was in the west end of Glasgow, an area I had already lived in for several years at the time, and it isn't really THAT easy to get lost. Sure there's lots of twisty streets and dead ends and there's no such a thing as a short-cut . . . but getting lost is pretty damn difficult.
I had actually met my mum down in Partick that morning and after having a leisurely lunch, she had headed home via my grandparents house, and I had decided to go for a sunbed. Then, as I was wont to do, I decided to cut up a side street to make the journey home SEEM a little bit faster (even if it really wasn't).
Except the side street I went up started to double back in the opposite direction. I was fairly confident I would still be able to find my way, but next thing I was on a main road with absolutely no idea where I was and no familiar landmarks. I kept walking anyway - rather than doing the sensible thing and turning back - and the further I walked, the more confused I was getting. I was walking past lots of people but didn't want to look stupid by asking for directions.
Eventually I had to stop, realising I was well and truly lost. I was starting to panic, and still didn't want to ask a stranger. So I ended up phoning my mum. Luckily, because she had been meeting me, her phone was on for a change. She was at my grandparents by this point (I had been lost for a while!) and so ended up trying to give me directions by using an A-Z. Unfortunately given I had no clue where I was, she wasn't getting much sense out of me. Eventually, we managed to find some street names and she, with the help of my brother, managed to navigate me safely to a familiar area.
The best bit? Most of the time while my mum tried to get sense out of me, there were a pair of policemen standing two feet away. Who would probably have been able to point me in the direction of home far quicker. And because of their presence, I was WHISPERING into the phone, so they wouldn't hear me and figure out I was lost.
I guess there really IS such a thing as cutting your nose off to spite your face . . .