Born to be...LOST?

After posting the show schedule for upcoming Indiegrrl events, I share this blog from the Indie Laughs for Life profile about last year's adventure. Maybe Santa should bring me a GPS for Christmas? NO WAY!

September 19, 2007

Born to be lost: Part I
Current mood:Lost
Category: Travel and Places

My inner lyricist wants to rewrite the Steppenwolf song 'Born to be Wild'. But first a word from our sponsor: Mapquest...whose tagline should be 'Don't believe everything we tell you.' Both attempts to get to an Indie Music for Life event have resulted in some midguided directions.

The first time was trying to get to Blackstock Winery in Dahlonega, GA last November. Nobody could find the right turn onto Frog Hollow Road because it DID NOT EXIST. Good news for the frogs.

This time I made it all the way into North Carolina and by my estimate was less than an hour away from my destination. The exit from the Interstate was clearly marked...but that's when things started to get murky. Okay, I don't entirely blame these online navigational services because the people who design our infrastructure must have a sadistic streak. Case in point: roads that change names several times for no apparent reason and with no warning.

I'll spare the details of which roads I should/should not have been on. Let's just say it was dark and I was lost in the middle of nowhere. Although I think I was more a bit to the northeast of nowhere. Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light...NO it wasn't the Hotel California...it was a REALLY small gas station but it appeared to be open.

Nothing says 'Y'all ain't from 'round here, are ya?' faster than Cobb County, GA license plates on a mid-sized SUV and a woman with a Vera Bradley purse clutching a piece of paper with the big friggin' MAPQUEST logo on it. But I knew country folk are good people, much like Floyd the Barber of Mayberry.

(NOTE TO SELF: After I write the lyrics for Born to Be Lost compose opera entitled 'The Barber of Mayberry').

But the man behind the counter was right friendly...considering he had two, possibly three of his own teeth and smelled horridly of chewing tobacco. When I told him what road I was TRYING to locate, he pointed in various directions and I think told me to take a right turn after the squashed possum in the road. But I DID get to Highway 65...

...except I didn't know whether to go East or West because my directions told me to 'merge' northbound and mentioned nothing about the possum.

TO BE CONTINUED...