Visiting Mark

This story happened quite a while ago. I'd been meaning to write about it for a long time, now, but I'm pretty much pro when it comes to procrastinating.

In the middle of October, I decided I'd visit my friend, Mark, at his home in Owatonna. I went to my home in Cold Spring first, though, because I had to watch my little brothers on Friday night whilst my dad and step-mom were gallivanting about (I really don't remember what they were doing. They probably went to Menards or something). So, Saturday morning, I set out on my journey to Owatonna. The directions were pretty simple - 94 to 35W to Owatonna (those numbers are highways. Or freeways, I don't really know... Those big roads that cities have (I'm from a small town. Shut up)).

I found my way to 35W pretty easily, despite the fact that I followed the signs directing me there (the signs in the Twin Cities would be laughably inaccurate if I didn't depend on them to direct me places. Since I do, they are infuriatingly inaccurate). However, after about five minutes of driving on 35W, there was a sign indicating that there was construction work and, consequently, a detour. The whole highway/freeway/big road that cities have was blocked off, forcing the drivers to exit via the closest exit ramp, which I did. The people in charge of the detour forgot to put up detour signs, though. I was very much out of my element. I decided to follow other people who exited, which is a great plan, because, obviously, everyone else was going to Owatonna, too. When I realized that the odds of everyone else going to Owatonna were actually much lower than I had initially suspected, I called my dad, because he's pretty much a human GPS when it comes to the Twin Cities area of Minnesota. He directed me to Owatonna, where there was much rejoicing and fun had by all.

Sunday evening (Yes, I am going to skip over my time in Owatonna. It was fun, but this post is strictly about my driving woes), I had to go back to Brookings. You know, classes and stuff on Monday. I wanted Highway 14 West, because that's a straight shot to Brookings. I was driving and went by a sign that said in order to get to Highway 14 West, I'd have to take my next left. Except that next left was immediately after the sign, not giving me enough time to slow down and turn. I continued on, made a U-turn, and took the turn. Then there was sign that said there was construction on 14 East, which didn't affect me at all. The next sign said 14 East would be my next right, and 14 West would be my next left. I turned left, and realized that there was construction on this highway. Then I remembered that 14 East was supposed to have construction. I turned around and got onto 14 "East," which was actually 14 West, which was actually the same road I was on when I missed the turn to bring me to 14 West. It only took me an extra hour to get back to Brookings. Don't worry, though - I listened to the Vikings get annihilated against the Bears on the radio, so my drive was... actually it was pretty horrible.

Neither of these first two posts were about the Vikings, yet they both ended with a sad little factoid regarding them. So much for happy endings, eh?