Which Way?

Horace Greeley was a newspaper editor who famously wrote, “Go West, young man.”  He wasn’t talking about hummingbirds, rather he was speaking of America’s westward expansion.

Anyway, it’s claimed hummingbirds migrate to and from the United States and Mexico, and beyond.  These amazing tiny creatures are said to make their way through heat, winds, cold snaps, generally inclement weather, and collusion.  Still, they return as regularly as previously deported illegal aliens.

Has a larger brain than Jerrold Nadler

Just how those miniature birds do this international maneuvering is baffling to me, and many scientists, as well.

And every year it is gratifying to me that they are able to return to find my several red hummingbird feeders from which to dine.

I, too, regularly travel throughout the continental United States, only to get habitually lost.  Alas.

It’s not as if the roads aren’t clearly marked – although most ain’t.  I get lost because I find myself daydreaming about my activities, or lack thereof, when I reach my destination, and talking.

Such inattentiveness is good for missing critical exits, entrances, and rest areas.

It is at these times when my sainted wife feels compelled to suggest I stop and ask for something nonsensical called “directions.”

Such times begin with “The Look.”  If you’ve ever been married for more than 7-minutes, you are familiar with The Look.

That’s the unique glare, usually out of the corner of the eye – not to be confused with The Sneer – combined with a stoic, unblinking face.  Something similar can be witnessed in horror movies, which is the signal to both the audience and victim that a rather gruesome scene is about to occur.

“Just stop and ask; I have to pee!” is generally her first offering about the severity of the current situation.

Dutifully, I stop at the first business that appears to be open.  Hoping the guy without neck tattoos, and at least four-teeth, will see me first, to help me find my way out of the Twilight Zone, is the goal.

Should you be asking yourself why I’m using my GPS to relocate civilized America, it’s because my Tom Selleck-like fingers are too fat to punch in the destination address.  That precludes me from traveling from Point A to Point B, without visiting nine other points along the way.  But I digress.

People who like to give directions should use real-life methods and landmarks.  Telling someone who is lost to, for example, “Find Jake’s place, then turn left,” is fruitless if you don’t know Jake.  Neither is it helpful to inform the lost person that the cow in the front yard is a quality landmark; it’s not.

And heading “north,” for example does no one any good without a compass handy, or a wait until sunset.

Back in the car at square one, my sainted wife and I agree to argue while we aimlessly drive until we are able to locate civilization.

Since Smokey the Cat is pretty useless in these situations, I’m thinking about trading him out for a pet hummingbird.