Have you ever encountered one of those annoying people who will bore you to distraction with cute stories about the time she got lost? Perky Pollyanna who took a wrong turn on the way to wherever – and just happened onto this marvelous restaurant where the waiter insisted on serving her all evening with champagne on the house. Or when she stumbled upon the quaintest little antique jewelry store where a fabulous diamond and pearl brooch had just gone on sale – it was such a steal! And all this because she accidentally got lost.
I mean – don’t you just hate that?
Me, too. Because when I get lost, all I get is, well…lost. No breathless reminiscences about interesting people I met, stunning vistas I caught sight of, amusing little shops I discovered. No-sir-ee-Bob! Take last week for example.
A group of three friends and I planned an excursion to Pacific Grove for lunch and some shopping. I volunteered to drive because I have a vehicle that comfortably seats everyone, and the doctor says my road rage thing is definitely improving. Well, no, I just made that up. But having driven to the Monterey area more times than I can count, I was happy to volunteer.
Now if you haven’t experienced it yourself, let me tell you that four women in the same vehicle can account for an awful lot of activity in the vocal department. We were yakking it up and having a grand old time. Patty was in the rear seat recounting a hilarious episode about Laguna Seca where she practically had heat stroke and her friend had to get out of the vehicle to direct traffic, which was pretty interesting because said friend had consumed a few beers such as maybe a case. And that merged into Jane’s rollicking musings (don’t ask me why, it’s a girl thing) about how she’d really enjoy wearing her mother’s old fur stoles except she didn’t want to offend anyone such as the animal rights people but, after all, those animals had been dead a really long time!
I was happily enjoying these anecdotes because I didn’t, obviously, have too much going on other than the usual mundane activities like steering and peering out the windshield now and again when suddenly Pat, my friend and co-pilot in the front seat casually asked, “Gale, wasn’t that the turn-off to Monterey?” right as the exit sign blew past in a blur.
Well, let me just say I did exactly what any responsible adult operator of a motor vehicle would do in my shoes, which is that I faked it. “Oh, no problem,” I said breezily. “I’ll just turn off in Salinas.”
And I’m pleased to report that I was alert in my driverly duties, making the proper exit in Salinas. But that was positively the last thing I did right because soon thereafter, things began going dreadfully wrong. The backseat banter drifted along merrily until the moment we all realized something was horribly amiss. A turn not taken or a lane that merged onto the wrong street – who knows! But the area we’d drifted upon was as alien to me as if I were suddenly driving on the surface of the moon.
Somehow we’d come upon the derelict ruins of Ft. Ord where street after street became a labyrinth of abandoned barracks and boarded up buildings of a foregone era. Add to this desolate landscape the fact that a thick, nearly impenetrable fog was inching eerily between the buildings; it was as if we’d stumbled smack into the midst of a Stephen King movie. With no other vehicle in sight, I half expected to see Jack Nicholson lumbering along the side of the road wielding an ax, laughing maniacally.
But my gal pals stuck by me, due in no small part to the fact that it was way too creepy to get out and hitch-hike, when little by little we emerged into more populated terrain, and eventually the familiar green highway signs came into focus, which was met with a lot of good-natured cheering from the girls.
So while my latest episode of getting lost didn’t render a great new restaurant discovery, and it certainly didn’t add to my jewelry collection, it netted me a whole lot more: knowing that when it comes to spending some high quality time, you just can’t beat a few really good girlfriends getting together for an afternoon jaunt because getting lost with your buddies is a pretty good place to be.
I guess you could say I am always up for lunch with the girls – just name the time and the place. Oh – and you can drive.
Gale Hammond is a 23-year Morgan Hill resident. Reach her at
Ga*********@ao*.com
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