Need Directions? I’ll Tell Ya Where to Go
So, I am standing at the pump this rainy morning and I am filling the gas tank of my Jeep (I have to do that a lot these days it seems). The place is empty except for me and I am kind of lost in that pre-work reverie that you sometimes fall into especially if you have a long drive ahead of you. I heard the hiss of a car pulling into the station and I turn to see where it is going and, much to my dismay, witness the driver rolling down his window and leaning out. Unlike some I have met I am not convinced that every car that slows down near me is about to do some kind of drive-by. Now, what fills me with dread is that someone is about to ask me for directions.
“Hey,” says the frazzled-looking man, “Where’s the Old Country Buffet?”
I shrug. “Um, wellâÂ?¦”
“They said it was right on Barrington Road,” he says, as though this will help me in anyway. “Is this Streamwood?”
I look up and see the water tower. It says “Hanover Park.” I know Streamwood is around here somewhere but I don’t really know if it is east or south or north. That’s the problem I have with Chicago. Each area of town has its own name. This is confusing because, of course, each suburb does as well. They all run together in my head. Whenever a suburb of neighborhood in the Chicago area is mentioned in a news story I generally have no clue what side of town it is on or where it is.
I also tend not to know how to get to places by use of street names. This is something that has dogged me since I was a kid riding his bike all over his neighborhood. I just knew how to get places. I look for landmarks and such but I do not know street names. Even when I use something like Mapquest I tend to drive some place once and then I just sort of know how to get there from then on and the names of the streets become blurred and obscured and I couldn’t tell you what they are.
I have lived in the neighborhood I live in for three and a half years. I live alone. I live far enough away from the city that friends tend not to drive out to where I am to meet up for dinner. Was there an Old Country Buffet somewhere around me? I have no clue. I don’t eat at Old Country Buffet much these days. I tend to eat at home. I never noticed an Old Country Buffet anywhere around me. There could have been one just five feet from me but if I had never been on the lookout for an Old Country Buffet I probably just never noticed it before. So, what did I do?
I shrugged a lot and gave a vague wave to where I thought Streamwood was. If Streamwood were where I waved then it takes up the entire western horizon of the state of Illinois. That’s how vague I was. Now I was curious. I knew there was a really long strip-mall further north from where I was and it seemed like the kind of place an Old Country Buffet might be hiding itself. I drove off and, sure enough, there was an Old Country Buffet. It was set way back from the road and in the complete opposite direction from where I indicated the guy may want to continue driving. Whoops.
I hate being asked for directions. I feel very responsible when someone asks me. What’s funny is when someone asks me for directions in the neighborhood where I grew up. I lived there for the better part of my life and most of the time when someone asks me how to get somewhere I pretend like I have never been to the area before. Then I try to get out of the line of site from the direction-asker as quickly as possible so they don’t come back at me and ask what planet I am from.
When I drive to work, for example, there are a few streets whose names I do know. I know exactly what street I need to turn right on in the final stretch before I get to work. However, I will not be telling you that street in case you suddenly feel the urge to take out a blogger by standing along that particular road and shoot various Jeeps with a shoulder-mounted rocket-launcher. Just know I know this particular road. However, for the absolute last stretch of the drive I have to make a left turn on a road that takes me through this residential area. If you put that rocket-launcher to my head right now and asked me to tell you the name of that street I need to turn left on I could not tell you. I just know you turn left after you go under a train over-pass. Then you drive through this neighborhood and make a few lefts and rights and when you come out of the neighborhood you are right at the spot where I work all day. I have no clue what the street names are through that neighborhood. No clue at all.
The overpass is something you would not miss. The intersection looks really weird and there are nice murals all over the walls, but I haven’t the faintest idea what the street name is. Not even a vague recollection or idea of what it might be. I have been driving the route for about a year and I still couldn’t really tell you the street names.
I have friends who are the opposite about this. As I recall, my friend Tim has a very good recollection of where every neighborhood and suburb is. To be honest, most people I know and live in Chicago know these things. For some reason I have no clue. When they were talking about the new soccer stadium for the Major League Soccer team The Chicago Fire opening in Bridgeview I had and still have no clue where that is. I know the neighborhood Bridgeport is near the White Sox stadium but I haven’t a clue where Bridgeview is. Does it even have a view of a bridge somewhere?
That’s the other problem with suburbs. They are often named things for reasons that are not clear. I have relatives who live in a suburb called Lake in the Hills. I have been there many times and never noticed hills and have never seen a lake. Was there a lake in them there hills and it was now developed into condos or something?
Then there’s the whole man-made lake thing. I had a friend who used to insist he lived on a lake. No, it was a man-made pond with a fountain in it. Lake Michigan is a lake. It has no fountain. Anyway, I am now off-track on my original topic.
I will just say that if you happen to see me, don’t ask me for directions. Unless you want a vague wave to the west.
