Stupid Questions

This morning I stretched my blog reading legs and went further afield than usual - and read some of Marz entries, who had commented on LadyStyx's blog. She is a young woman that aspires to write - and while working on her dream, she is a tour guide. Her blog is worth a read - After all, anyone that enjoys Kurt Vonnegut's writing can't be all bad. You will, however, find life as a tour guide is not as charming or as glamorous as you might have been led to believe.

One of her entries, "Stupid Questions" struck a cord with me. And I wrote a comment - but my mind, once started on the topic, didn't want to leave it. :)

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I walk a lot, and on the main street in town, so I often get folks driving by asking me where this or that is - I think I have a sign that's invisible to me over my head that says, "Serious map dude here" or something.

Most of the time - from the questions they ask, I end up wondering how they found the bathroom that morning and figured out how to get dressed, let alone do something as complex as drive a car.

For instance, a few days ago, an older (well, I'm being generous here) lady stopped in the middle of the road (it is Main Street) and had about 30 cars, all honking away, behind her. She rolls down the passenger window after a bit of a struggle, and asks me, "Where is the bank?" I could barely hear her over the din. I yelled "WHAT BANK LADY?" and she names one - dumbfounded, I turn and point a half block down the street and say in a loud voice, "See that green bank sign? that's the bank you want." So what does she say? "You don't have to yell at me sonny!" and drives off, putting on her glasses.

At just about the same spot - a few weeks ago, a guy driving a four-door sedan pulls over and the window comes downs. I hear him say, "Hey! YOU! Where the F*** is the G** D*** coin store?!" I must of looked a little confused, because he continued with, "You know! The F**king store that has the old coins - I collect the d*** things for a hobby!" The light came on in my head - he wanted the "Coin and Hobby Store" and had just driven past it, perhaps while looking at me.

So, not feeling like an Eagle Scout that day, I replied, "Oh! I know the place!! Just keep on going," pointing down the road, "It's about 3 more miles on your right." As he drove off, I quickly disappeared knowing I had sent him into a road construction nightmare. Only later did I actually trouble myself to see where I had sent him via Google Maps. Ah, the town cemetery - good move, Intense one... Shrugs, well, there was no call for the offensive language.

Another time, a guy was in the local 7-11 (a 'convenience' store) at the counter with the guy I call Turnip in my mind but not out loud, since I can't remember his name, with a map out demanding poor ol' Turnip to tell him where the bowling alley was. Now Turnip speaks perhaps 40 words of English and has trouble making proper change even though the register tells him the amount (so you have to count it each time) just looked totally flummoxed. Taking pity on poor Turnip, I say to him, "You know, this is the perfect time for someone to buy a map." The lost guy turns so quickly he knocks stuff off the counter and glares at me, and says, "If you don't know where the bowling alley is, keep your mouth shut!"

Taken a little aback by that display of 'good manners', I calmly say, "But I do know where the bowling alley is," while going to get whatever I had gone in to the store to get. When I return to the counter, the guy is livid and shaking in rage. He barely spits out between clenched teeth, "Where is IT!?!?" To which I replied, "It was at 606 East Main Street until it burned down about 3 months ago," and walk out.

Finally, while walking in Valley Forge National Historical Park, on the Schuylkill River Trail, last week, just as darkness was closing in, a breathless guy on his bike comes to a skidding halt next to me and he asks, "Which way is it to Philadelphia?" I point direction in which he had come and say, "Philadelphia is about 25 miles back that way." The guy looks over his shoulder and back down the trail in the growing gloom and murk, and says, "Do you think I can make it before dark?" I don't know how far I rolled my eyes or how hard I bit my tongue to keep the next thought I had from getting spoken.