0.5 for 3
The day began poorly with my morning 10.30 meeting pushed to 11.30, which I knew full well would go beyond the 30 minute allotment. Of course, I was due to look at a venue over my lunch hour, and missed the appointment...now I can't get one until Monday. The meeting had the damn audacity to end about 3 minutes after the point that I probably could have made it (albeit late) to the appointment. Great. MF couldn't make it because he was at home fixing the thingy on the brakes, but he promised me he'd get to appointment number 2 at a different location at 6pm. At 5.15pm he calls me to say he is stuck in traffic and can't make it to the 6pm appointment. We reschedule for the next available appointment, July 9th. Great.
The final appointment for the day is due at 7.15pm at a golf club. I leave work at 5.45pm, and decide to take side streets to avoid aforementioned bad traffic. Bad idea. I get stuck in the beginning of what looks to be the worst traffic ever seen, turn around and head up a parallel but alternate route.
Note: I am not known for my navigationary prowess
I vaguely recognize a street name as being close to the venue, take a chance and turn off onto it. I drive until, mercy of mercies, I find the street that the venue is on. Turning onto it, I begin to congratulate myself at my astute navigational skills. I even begin to whistle. I pass Seneca college at about 6.30pm (yes, this is of note) and keep going. No venue in sight. Doubt sets in. I hit a dirt road...any second now, I think. I got down and up hills for 10 minutes, hit an intersection. I can go left, or right. There is no straight option, and being that straight is what I need, I am SOL. The road that the venue is on is no more. I turn right. I feel doubt. I turn around, go past the intersection. Mercy of mercies, there is the street...it continued to the left of the intersection. I take the street, confident that yes, this is the street...just keep going north and I'll hit it any second. The road turns right and turns into County Rd 9. This isn't right. I keep going. Now I'm lost. Eventually I hit Yonge Street and seeing gas stations, turn left. Pull over, ask directions. No-one has heard of the place, but advise me to go to the highway and go south. I ask in disbelief "you mean I'm too far north?" (how could I have gone too far north and not run into the place...I thought I was still too far south!).
Freak storm erupts...now it's 7.30pm. I make it to the highway, my borrowed van limping along in the lightening. I see the correct exit...hallelulah! I am now firm in my astounding incompentance to find a location. I follow the directions to the letter...this road for 3 minutes, turn left, that road for 8 minutes and then you are there! I do as the instructions say.
I pass Seneca college.
I burst into tears...I feel like I am in a bad episode of the Twilight Zone (or a good episode of "The Next Generation" depending on how you look at these things). Then I saw it...a teensy little sign, seriously no bigger than a regular house number plaque...right beside a huge sign for a housing development (which I had seen and dismissed). Hold your thumb and finger up, make them a half inch apart and hold them at an arms length...that's how small the damn sign was.
I will never doubt my navigational skills again. Eyesight, yes. Navigation, no.
The final appointment for the day is due at 7.15pm at a golf club. I leave work at 5.45pm, and decide to take side streets to avoid aforementioned bad traffic. Bad idea. I get stuck in the beginning of what looks to be the worst traffic ever seen, turn around and head up a parallel but alternate route.
Note: I am not known for my navigationary prowess
I vaguely recognize a street name as being close to the venue, take a chance and turn off onto it. I drive until, mercy of mercies, I find the street that the venue is on. Turning onto it, I begin to congratulate myself at my astute navigational skills. I even begin to whistle. I pass Seneca college at about 6.30pm (yes, this is of note) and keep going. No venue in sight. Doubt sets in. I hit a dirt road...any second now, I think. I got down and up hills for 10 minutes, hit an intersection. I can go left, or right. There is no straight option, and being that straight is what I need, I am SOL. The road that the venue is on is no more. I turn right. I feel doubt. I turn around, go past the intersection. Mercy of mercies, there is the street...it continued to the left of the intersection. I take the street, confident that yes, this is the street...just keep going north and I'll hit it any second. The road turns right and turns into County Rd 9. This isn't right. I keep going. Now I'm lost. Eventually I hit Yonge Street and seeing gas stations, turn left. Pull over, ask directions. No-one has heard of the place, but advise me to go to the highway and go south. I ask in disbelief "you mean I'm too far north?" (how could I have gone too far north and not run into the place...I thought I was still too far south!).
Freak storm erupts...now it's 7.30pm. I make it to the highway, my borrowed van limping along in the lightening. I see the correct exit...hallelulah! I am now firm in my astounding incompentance to find a location. I follow the directions to the letter...this road for 3 minutes, turn left, that road for 8 minutes and then you are there! I do as the instructions say.
I pass Seneca college.
I burst into tears...I feel like I am in a bad episode of the Twilight Zone (or a good episode of "The Next Generation" depending on how you look at these things). Then I saw it...a teensy little sign, seriously no bigger than a regular house number plaque...right beside a huge sign for a housing development (which I had seen and dismissed). Hold your thumb and finger up, make them a half inch apart and hold them at an arms length...that's how small the damn sign was.
I will never doubt my navigational skills again. Eyesight, yes. Navigation, no.
posted by Jennifer @ 2:01 p.m.
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