the lost weekend

i have never been so lost in my whole life. i was disoriented from the minute i hit the LA freeway system and realized i hadn’t memorized the mapquest directions, and had to read them by vanity mirror light at 75 miles per hour, even moreso when the directions stopped making any sense somewhere in La Verne, and when i hit the bizarre and overwhelming lightshow of vegas at one AM, after five hours of highway insanity, the last traces of my otherwise excellent sense of direction left me entirely. and i was lost. i stayed lost for days. at no time could i find my own ass with both hands. i don’t suppose the beer, or the gin, or the tequila or the days without sleep helped any, but that’s beside my point, if i have one.

i got lost trying to find food. i got lost trying to find people. i got lost trying to find booze. i got lost trying to find my own room. (actual conversation, end of last night, as i was hesitating about elevator choices — jon: which tower is it in, north or south? me: i do not know.) but then again i always have episodes of cognitive deficiency when opposites are concerned — left/right, east/west, etc/etc. my sense of direction is not something that has neat labels and arrows, it’s more a feeling, a general spatial orientation. and it usually works quite swimmingly, except this weekend.

thankfully it returned as i left las vegas. i was able to find the freeway right off, got on it going the right direction, realized i was out of gas around the outskirts of town, got back off the freeway and found a gas station and my way back to the 15 without incedent. much loveliness driving through the desert at quite a high rate of speed (after the traffic cleared, which was 100 miles or more). when i got to the 15/210 transition and it dumped me unceremoniously off the unfinished freeway in rancho cucamonga, i managed to find, without even trying hard, the road i should have found from the original mapquest directions, and follow it (the 30 is more of a route than a road, many turns, never a definite sense that you are going any one direction) to the 210 which becomes the 134 which becomes the 101. by the time i navigated that bit of merging and hit the familiar valley offramps, my navigating abilities had returned full force and i lost that ever so disconcerting feeling of having no idea where i was going.

i should note that aside from one general ‘am i going the right direction’ question (i was) in La Verne on thursday night, i asked for no directions whatsoever. i may not be a man, but i play one in the car.

it was a lost weekend, but it was still very wonderful. now i must hook the laptop into my network and get my pictures.

6 thoughts on “the lost weekend

  1. Hey there! I’m glad you made it home…..sorry I had to ask you 12 million times where home is!…but I remember now…I promise never to ask again…really! It was great meeting you….hope we do this next year!

  2. You sound like me when jessica was here. What makes it worse, I was lost in my own town 100% of the time.

    I don’t ask for directions either. I just cry and turn on Christian music.

  3. I have no shame. I ask. I am still afraid of being kidnapped in the wal-mart parking lot. What did my parents do to me?

  4. fear the wal-mart parking lot. fear it!

    asking for directions is scarier than that though. the vulnerability. the admission of weakness.

    i prefer to fake it. it usually works for me.

  5. For some odd reason, Las Vegas is easy to get disoriented in. I even had a real good map, and finally I had to say “fuck it” and drive in a straight line until I got out of the city and ended up by the Hoover Dam and vowed never to go to Vegas again.

    I hope you had fun though…

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