Smug Marrieds: We Speak of This To No One

Thanks to Blair Harris for giving his permission for today's post. 

Blair and I left Virginia Beach last Monday in the pre-dawn hours. Blair had to be back at work that afternoon so we needed an early start. We'd come into VA Beach on 664 off of 58, so we did the opposite going back. Got on 664 and then took the exit for 58. 

Even though it was early and no one was out, I was nervous as we drove through narrow streets in what looked like a bad neighborhood.

"I don't remember passing this coming in," I said to Blair. 

"I don't remember it either," he said. He pointed at a road sign. "But we're on 58." 

We carefully tracked our progress as nothing looked familiar. "We must have gotten on Business 58 somehow," Blair finally declared. "We'll stick with it and it'll eventually empty us out on 58."

We drove a little more. The sun came up in front of us. "What a pretty sunrise," I said. 

Blair heaved a huge sigh then muttered a curse.

"What?" I asked. 

"What road are we on?" he asked. 

"58 East," I said. 

"Uh-huh. And what direction is our house?" 

I blinked. "Oh... crap." 

Blair looked over at me as he turned the car around. "We speak of this to no one." 

We were probably 20 minutes outside VA Beach when we figured it out. Oh. My. God. How many morons does it take to drive West? Apparently more than two. I cling to the fact that it was early and we were tired. But the truth is, it's my fault. I have no sense of direction and I routinely suck the natural ability out of people like Blair who actually do have a good sense of direction. Everyone gets lost when they ride with me. I think I must give out some sort of invisible negative charge. 

"Welcome to my world," I told Blair as we raced to make up the hour of lost time. "This is what is happening to me every time I call you from the car saying I can't figure out where I am."

"Your world sucks," said Blair. 

Well, then.

Cheers,

Dena