Monday, Nov. 07, 2005 - 4:22 P.M.
I am highly geographically challenged. I’m not just talking about being unable to follow someone else’s directions or, God forbid, my giving directions to someone. I’m talking also about the actual location of states and entire countries. I’ve even been known to misstate (no pun intended) the location of an entire continent. My continent. If you were to ask me where, say, Belize is, I’d confidently tell you it’s located right next to Guam. Want to know where Russia is? Ask me! I’ll tell you it’s right above New Zealand. Which it is…sort of. Need directions to my house? Why I’ll give you such detailed directions you’ll be absolutely astounded by their elaborateness and, yet, you’ll delight in their brevity.
See, when it comes to being asked about locations of states and countries I count on the law of averages. I’m hoping the average person is as unwise to a given location as myself. After all, have you ever seen those segments on The Tonight Show With Jay Leno where your average Joe or Jane is asked such questions as, “Who is the President?” or “Who is the Secretary of State?” One night, swear on my life, one gal was asked who or what Condoleezza Rice was and she said it was a new flavor of Rice-A-Roni. HA! Chicken a la Condi.
You can see how it’s not really that much of a stretch to believe that if Joe Schmo is asking me where Belize is, I could tell him any old thing and make him believe I know exactly what I’m talking about. A skill I honed to a razor-sharp edge in high school doing book reports on books I never read. A grade-A bullshit vendor, I.
With directions though….well, let me start by saying I’ve mislead you a bit. In the opening paragraph I mention giving directions to my house. I, uh, do not give directions to my house. I did once or twice but am no longer allowed to. Something about some kid’s mother calling from a city 17 miles away from my house. Whatever. Minor inconvenience. Blahblahblah-don’t-be-so-particular,-enjoy-the-scenery,-it-was-a-pretty-fall-day!-cakes.
I’m also not allowed to write down directions given to me by someone else. Some other insignificant thing about my writing “left” when they said “right” and “keep going” when they said “stop.” Jeez. Picky people. Nobody’s perfect is all I’m sayin’.
So it’s a good thing then that my husband is King of Geographytonfieldville. Ask him where any city, in not only the U.S., but any country in the world is located and he can tell you. Ask him the location of some tiny, insignificant, nothing of a country like, say, France, and he’ll know! Even better, he’s not like me, where he’s being all sly and foxy, trying to give the illusion he knows. Impressively, he really does. Trust me, I’ve learned this. Because at first, I thought he was pulling a “me” and I was all, “Dude? That’s my gig.” but it wasn’t even an act. Who keeps all that knowledge in their head? Doesn’t it muck-up the room you could be using to keep the cast members of HBO's Rome straight or how many Little River Band albums there are?
Needless to say, he’s in charge of any road trip or local outings to unfamiliar neighborhoods. Which is a good thing. Because once a long time ago I tried to go to Florida by myself to meet up with some friends? And I live in Tennessee, y’all, so practically all you have to do is head south till you hit water, right? And I got lost. Really lost.
West Virginia was lovely though.
You Give Me Fervor - Friday, Feb. 17, 2006