I just want to say that if you're reading this, you're South Dakotan, and you actually can drive, mad props, bro. You're one of the few. Keep on doin' you.
I've written a post about South Dakotans and their inability to function appropriately behind the wheel of a vehicle before. I didn't, however, offer ways for South Dakotans to better themselves as drivers. It's understandable, then, that they still can't drive. I'm going to try to remedy that.
First, though, I have a question. I don't really understand the process that people go through in South Dakota to get their license. Is there actually a process? Does the State Government just send everyone their driver's license regardless of qualifications? Like, "Oh, it's your 12th birthday today*? Here's your driver's license! Good luck out there!" I honestly think that's how it works here. That's now how it should work. I feel like before someone tries to do something that could potentially lead to the death of his/herself and other people, that person should probably learn how to do said thing. There are very basic things that less than 5% of the state's population is capable of doing in a vehicle. I'll give you guys the rundown.
1. Turning, Part 1: Lanes, Part 1
When you turn, there's usually something called a "turning lane." The lane, itself, does not turn. Rather, you are to navigate yourself and your vehicle into this lane to get out of the way of people who are not turning. If you don't move into the turning lane, you're kind of just being a jerk because you're blocking people from going straight by coming to a complete stop to wait for oncoming traffic, and then turning.
2. Turning, Part 1: Lanes, Part 2
When turning onto a street that has multiple lanes in one direction, always turn into the lane closest to you. For example, if you're turning right onto a 4-lane street (two going in each direction), turn into the lane that is most on the right, or "closest to the curb," if you don't know directions. If you're not from South Dakota and you think about it, it makes sense. If you are from South Dakota, I'll explain. If you turn right and turn into the correct lane, a person who is turning onto the same road from the opposite direction can turn into his or her lane at the same time, and nobody will die. If you turn into the wrong lane, you will probably hit the other person turning and everyone involved will die.
3. Turning, Part 2: Blinkers
Literally every single vehicle that can be legally driven in towns (towns are where people live) has a blinker. A blinker, also known as a "turn signal," signals to other drivers that you are going to turn. Wait, what?! Crazy, right? You can actually tell other people that you're going to turn without actually telling them. This way, people (me) won't get mad when they're waiting for you to drive past so they can turn onto a street, only to realize that you're actually turning and not stopping them from turning at all or when you slow down for seemingly no reason and then turn. You see, it seems like there's no reason to your slowing down because you aren't signaling that you're going to turn.
4. Street Signs
These fun things are actually helpful. The point of their existence is to help you as a driver. For example, the sign that says no left turns isn't just saying that to inconvenience you. It's telling you not to make a left turn because you're going to wait there forever, because traffic is ridiculous all the time. However, when you, South Dakotan, inevitably disregard that helpful tip, you keep everyone else from properly making a right turn. And we (I) hate you for it.
5. Speed Limits
Okay, I acknowledge this one isn't just for South Dakotans, but they still need help here. Acceptable speed is +/- 5 mph of the speed limit. That's just kind of a general rule. However, a lot of times people do not adhere to his rule. One time I was literally passed in town because I was going 30 mph in a 25 mph zone, which is a HUGE no-no. Guys, passing in town (remember, towns are where the people live) is a horrible idea BECAUSE TOWNS ARE WHERE THE PEOPLE LIVE. Do you understand this? Your odds of killing someone are way higher in a town because, you know, people live there. Conversely, if you're driving 15 mph in a 35 mph zone (WHICH HAS HAPPENED AN INFURIATING AMOUNT OF TIMES) does not make you any friends. You actually lose friends when you do this, because everyone hates when you do this.
*Today I swear I saw a 12-year-old child driving a truck, which is horrifying on so many levels. Sadly, I wasn't even surprised because, I mean, South Dakota.
Showing posts with label driving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label driving. Show all posts
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Paz Y Esperanza
Hola, mis amigos. I'm not sure if that's right, so I'm gonna stop with the Spanish. Last week I had to be a day camp leader for the first time in my still-brief counseling career. I was a little nervous because if you know me, you know that a leadership role does not play to my strengths. My strengths, if you're wondering, are making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and texting with one hand. Sadly, those help me in a very limited number of real life situations. One of those situations is not leading day camp. Day camp, by the way, is pretty much vacation bible school, where a few counselors from camp will go to a church and do camp things with the kids. Camp things consist of playing games, singing songs, doing bible studies, and making crafts. Normally, the counselors will stay at a host family's house for the week, but the day camp I was on was only twenty minutes away from camp, so we would commute every day. I started the week with a few concerns. They are as follows:
1. I was the DCL (Day Camp Leader)
Like I said, I've never been a DCL before, but I was aware that I probably wouldn't succeed in that role. I feel like I know what's going on most of the time, but to have to organize everything is a little overwhelming for me. Like, I'm not 100% sure on protocol for most things day camp related, and I feel like that's not a good trait for a DCL. Also, I had not received any DCL training, so I wasn't aware of most of things I was supposed to do. Luckily, I had a resource (the day camp binder), and when I get nervous and have access to a resource, I use that resource. A lot. I read through that binder probably three times every day, and that's how I realized I should probably fill out most of the forms regarding the day camp. However, there was another stressor related to this one...
2. I didn't have my binder for the first day
Since I'd never been a DCL before, I wasn't really sure of how the whole process of receiving the day camp binder worked. I assumed someone at the site I work at (Shores of St. Andrew) would have the binder, find me, say, "Joe, here's your binder for day camp," give me the binder, and walk away. None of those things were true. Apparently, I was sent an email from our sister site (Green Lake) which said I needed to drive there to pick up the binder and the car we would be using. I never got that email. So, on Sunday morning when we were supposed to be going to our church for day camp, I was freaking out because I didn't have my binder. The binder contains useful information such as, but not limited to, who I'm supposed to meet with at the church, directions on how to get to the church, if we are participating in the service at all, and if we're supposed to do something after the service at all. Kris, the waterfront director, looked up directions on his phone for me and we had an unused camp car at Shores, so those two things were taken care of. Luckily, the first person we saw in the church was the person who we were supposed to meet with. However, we were supposed to sing songs during the service, but we were not prepared for that. We ended up doing a skit during the children's sermon and called it good.
3. I was the only "guitar player" in the group
If you're wondering why "guitar player" is in quotes, it's because I wouldn't exactly call myself a guitar player. I'm just someone who knows chords on the guitar. Unfortunately, I was the only one on my day camp team who could even say that. Thus, I was the guitar player. I had never been the guitar player for a day camp before, and it was something near the top of my "I Never Want To Do This In My Lifetime" list (first and second on that list would be to pass a kidney stone and to receive a catheter. On a different note, is "receive" the right word to use in regard to a catheter? I mean, what else would you use? I'm gonna go with "receive").
4. I'm not fluent in Spanish
"Paz Y Esperanza" is actually Spanish for "Peace and Hope." The fact that the church is named "Paz Y Esperanza" is a pretty dead giveaway that the congregation is mostly Hispanic. They definitely are. My Spanish is spotty at best. Fortunately, the kids all spoke English and the helpers were bilingual. Everything went better than expected!
1. I was the DCL (Day Camp Leader)
Like I said, I've never been a DCL before, but I was aware that I probably wouldn't succeed in that role. I feel like I know what's going on most of the time, but to have to organize everything is a little overwhelming for me. Like, I'm not 100% sure on protocol for most things day camp related, and I feel like that's not a good trait for a DCL. Also, I had not received any DCL training, so I wasn't aware of most of things I was supposed to do. Luckily, I had a resource (the day camp binder), and when I get nervous and have access to a resource, I use that resource. A lot. I read through that binder probably three times every day, and that's how I realized I should probably fill out most of the forms regarding the day camp. However, there was another stressor related to this one...
2. I didn't have my binder for the first day
Since I'd never been a DCL before, I wasn't really sure of how the whole process of receiving the day camp binder worked. I assumed someone at the site I work at (Shores of St. Andrew) would have the binder, find me, say, "Joe, here's your binder for day camp," give me the binder, and walk away. None of those things were true. Apparently, I was sent an email from our sister site (Green Lake) which said I needed to drive there to pick up the binder and the car we would be using. I never got that email. So, on Sunday morning when we were supposed to be going to our church for day camp, I was freaking out because I didn't have my binder. The binder contains useful information such as, but not limited to, who I'm supposed to meet with at the church, directions on how to get to the church, if we are participating in the service at all, and if we're supposed to do something after the service at all. Kris, the waterfront director, looked up directions on his phone for me and we had an unused camp car at Shores, so those two things were taken care of. Luckily, the first person we saw in the church was the person who we were supposed to meet with. However, we were supposed to sing songs during the service, but we were not prepared for that. We ended up doing a skit during the children's sermon and called it good.
3. I was the only "guitar player" in the group
If you're wondering why "guitar player" is in quotes, it's because I wouldn't exactly call myself a guitar player. I'm just someone who knows chords on the guitar. Unfortunately, I was the only one on my day camp team who could even say that. Thus, I was the guitar player. I had never been the guitar player for a day camp before, and it was something near the top of my "I Never Want To Do This In My Lifetime" list (first and second on that list would be to pass a kidney stone and to receive a catheter. On a different note, is "receive" the right word to use in regard to a catheter? I mean, what else would you use? I'm gonna go with "receive").
4. I'm not fluent in Spanish
"Paz Y Esperanza" is actually Spanish for "Peace and Hope." The fact that the church is named "Paz Y Esperanza" is a pretty dead giveaway that the congregation is mostly Hispanic. They definitely are. My Spanish is spotty at best. Fortunately, the kids all spoke English and the helpers were bilingual. Everything went better than expected!
Sunday, May 6, 2012
From Brookings, With Love, Part 2: Electric Boogaloo
When I left Brookings, the clouds were erupting with thunder and lightning. I was excited because I love thunderstorms. Driving in thunderstorms is a bad idea for me - not because driving conditions are poor, but because I love watching thunderstorms, and if I'm watching the thunderstorm I'm not watching the road. Every time lightning illuminated the sky, I took my eyes off of the road to watch.
It didn't start to rain until I was about a half hour out of Brookings. It was incredibly dark, and my headlights were almost no help in brightening the road. I would've switched on my high beams, but, of course, there was a car just far enough ahead of me where they weren't guiding me at all, but close enough where I couldn't use my brights.
By the time I got to Marshall - which is the halfway point between Brookings and home - it was raining hard. Much to my chagrin, I needed to get gas. At the first stop light in town, I merged into the left turn lane. Since my dresser was in the back seat, I couldn't see anything out of my rear-view mirror. As I was taking a sip from my Arnold Palmer (the beverage, not the old golfer after whom the beverage is named), I got rear ended, which not only caused my car to hit the car in front of me, it also caused my Arnie Palmie to fly out of my hand and onto the floor. To give you a sense of my priorities, the order of my subjects of concern went:
1. My Arnold Palmer
2. My iPod
3. My radio (I'm not sure why)
4. All of my stuff I was moving
5. My car
6. My body
7. The other people and their cars
Turns out, everything was fine. My license plate was bent a little bit, but that was the only damage done to any of the three cars. My Arnold Palmer, however, was half spilled on the floor of my car. It's probably a good thing that happened, though (foreshadowing is fun!).
After Marshall, I had the road to myself. That makes a ton of sense, actually, because who would be driving at 10:00pm in a roughly-180-mile-long severe thunderstorm? It was still incredibly dark outside (it's weird that it didn't get brighter as the night got later, right?) so my headlights did nothing. Unfortunately, it was raining so hard that my brights were even worse. Well, they were worse for visibility reasons, but in the entertainment area, they were a lot better - it looked like I had put my car into hyper drive! Very cool, but very unhelpful, also. I decided to keep my brights off.
After Granite Falls, which is the town after Marshall, I had to pee. Like, I really had to pee. I decided that I'd stop at the next gas station. Unfortunately, the next town was an hour away. By the time I made it to Spicer, the next town, I was strongly considering just peeing my pants. To my horror, nothing in Spicer was open. I wasn't really surprised. I mean, there are like six places in Spicer, and it was after 11:00pm. Normally, in a situation like this one, I'd just pull over and pee in a ditch or something. However, the torrential downpour was still in full effect, and was a great deterrent for that plan. After about ten more minutes of driving, my eyes started to tear up, except I was certain that the tears were made out of urine. I was excited for a little bit because I thought if I cried enough, that would empty my bladder. That didn't work. I accepted the fact that I was going to die. Police would come examine my totaled car, and the autopsy would reveal that my bladder had exploded, and if that wasn't enough to kill me, the fact that my lungs filled with urine certainly was. Eventually, I decided getting a little wet was better than getting a little dead, so I pulled over on the side of the road. Any time you pull over to the side of the road to pee, you hope it's gonna go by really quick. Unfortunately, if you get to the point where you have to pull over just to go to the bathroom, it's not gonna be a twenty second pee-session. The fact that I was braving a monsoon made me want this little pit stop to go as quickly as possible. It just so happened that I had pulled over behind a hill. After having the road to myself for over an hour and a half, not one, not two, not three, but four cars drove over the hill. I have a little bit of dignity, so I wasn't about to relieve myself in front of an audience. Unfortunately, more cars kept coming, spacing themselves so perfectly that as soon as I thought I was in the clear, another pair of headlights would appear. Eventually, I didn't care anymore, so I just let 'er go. I'm not crude enough to tell you how long it took, but I will tell you that three more cars drove by me before I was done. Taking solace in the fact that I would never see these people and the fact that I could actually function now that my bladder was empty, I hopped in my car and drove the last half hour to my home in Cold Spring.
I got home at midnight, and the first thing I did was turn on House Hunters on Home & Gardening TV. Yup. After not having cable for the whole school year, the first thing I turn on when I get home is House Hunters. Don't judge me.
It didn't start to rain until I was about a half hour out of Brookings. It was incredibly dark, and my headlights were almost no help in brightening the road. I would've switched on my high beams, but, of course, there was a car just far enough ahead of me where they weren't guiding me at all, but close enough where I couldn't use my brights.
By the time I got to Marshall - which is the halfway point between Brookings and home - it was raining hard. Much to my chagrin, I needed to get gas. At the first stop light in town, I merged into the left turn lane. Since my dresser was in the back seat, I couldn't see anything out of my rear-view mirror. As I was taking a sip from my Arnold Palmer (the beverage, not the old golfer after whom the beverage is named), I got rear ended, which not only caused my car to hit the car in front of me, it also caused my Arnie Palmie to fly out of my hand and onto the floor. To give you a sense of my priorities, the order of my subjects of concern went:
1. My Arnold Palmer
2. My iPod
3. My radio (I'm not sure why)
4. All of my stuff I was moving
5. My car
6. My body
7. The other people and their cars
Turns out, everything was fine. My license plate was bent a little bit, but that was the only damage done to any of the three cars. My Arnold Palmer, however, was half spilled on the floor of my car. It's probably a good thing that happened, though (foreshadowing is fun!).
After Marshall, I had the road to myself. That makes a ton of sense, actually, because who would be driving at 10:00pm in a roughly-180-mile-long severe thunderstorm? It was still incredibly dark outside (it's weird that it didn't get brighter as the night got later, right?) so my headlights did nothing. Unfortunately, it was raining so hard that my brights were even worse. Well, they were worse for visibility reasons, but in the entertainment area, they were a lot better - it looked like I had put my car into hyper drive! Very cool, but very unhelpful, also. I decided to keep my brights off.
After Granite Falls, which is the town after Marshall, I had to pee. Like, I really had to pee. I decided that I'd stop at the next gas station. Unfortunately, the next town was an hour away. By the time I made it to Spicer, the next town, I was strongly considering just peeing my pants. To my horror, nothing in Spicer was open. I wasn't really surprised. I mean, there are like six places in Spicer, and it was after 11:00pm. Normally, in a situation like this one, I'd just pull over and pee in a ditch or something. However, the torrential downpour was still in full effect, and was a great deterrent for that plan. After about ten more minutes of driving, my eyes started to tear up, except I was certain that the tears were made out of urine. I was excited for a little bit because I thought if I cried enough, that would empty my bladder. That didn't work. I accepted the fact that I was going to die. Police would come examine my totaled car, and the autopsy would reveal that my bladder had exploded, and if that wasn't enough to kill me, the fact that my lungs filled with urine certainly was. Eventually, I decided getting a little wet was better than getting a little dead, so I pulled over on the side of the road. Any time you pull over to the side of the road to pee, you hope it's gonna go by really quick. Unfortunately, if you get to the point where you have to pull over just to go to the bathroom, it's not gonna be a twenty second pee-session. The fact that I was braving a monsoon made me want this little pit stop to go as quickly as possible. It just so happened that I had pulled over behind a hill. After having the road to myself for over an hour and a half, not one, not two, not three, but four cars drove over the hill. I have a little bit of dignity, so I wasn't about to relieve myself in front of an audience. Unfortunately, more cars kept coming, spacing themselves so perfectly that as soon as I thought I was in the clear, another pair of headlights would appear. Eventually, I didn't care anymore, so I just let 'er go. I'm not crude enough to tell you how long it took, but I will tell you that three more cars drove by me before I was done. Taking solace in the fact that I would never see these people and the fact that I could actually function now that my bladder was empty, I hopped in my car and drove the last half hour to my home in Cold Spring.
I got home at midnight, and the first thing I did was turn on House Hunters on Home & Gardening TV. Yup. After not having cable for the whole school year, the first thing I turn on when I get home is House Hunters. Don't judge me.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Driving Dilemma (We'll Meet Again)
Okay, so, this just happened:
I was sitting at home, just watching some TV, when I got a text from a friend. The text said something like, "My house at 8:30 if you're still on break!" and I thought, "Hey, I'm still on break! This applies to me!" So, at 8:15, I headed out the door to journey to my friend's house. It takes me about 35 minutes to get to his house in Litchfield from my house in Cold Spring. I was going to be a little late, but he'd get over it. I turned on my car and noticed the battery light was on. Well, I'm no mechanic, so I just thought, "Psh, whatever, Maxwell (that's what I named my car)! You turned on, so that's all that matters!" I got out of town and was going 59 mph with the cruise control on, jamming out to some tunes on my iPod, which was plugged into my car via an auxiliary cord. I had my brights on, you know, because it was dark, and I realized that my dashboard lights were a little bit dimmer than normal. I turned my brights off, and the dashboard lights got a bit brighter. "Ha, problem solved," I thought. I continued on my way for a few more miles, and I realized I was slowing down. I thought that was pretty weird, considering the cruise control was on. Then I realized that the cruise control had turned itself off. A few seconds later, the radio turned itself off. I decided I should call my dad to inform him of my current predicament, so, pulling off to the side of the road, I made the call to my dad and explained the situation.
"Where are you?" my dad asked.
"Um, on the side of the road."
"Well, yeah, but where are you?"
"Um, I don't know." There aren't many landmarks between Cold Spring and Litchfield, and the way I go, there aren't any towns, either. I knew where I was, but I didn't know how to explain it to my dad, so I just said, "I don't know." Sometimes I think people think I'm less intelligent than I actually am because I'll do things like this, but really, I'm more intelligent than they think I am, because I know they won't understand what I'm saying, because I'm so intelligent.
"Oh, well just come back home and call me if you don't make it." I'm pretty sure the "if you don't make it," was referring to if I don't make it back to town, not if I die.
I was sitting at home, just watching some TV, when I got a text from a friend. The text said something like, "My house at 8:30 if you're still on break!" and I thought, "Hey, I'm still on break! This applies to me!" So, at 8:15, I headed out the door to journey to my friend's house. It takes me about 35 minutes to get to his house in Litchfield from my house in Cold Spring. I was going to be a little late, but he'd get over it. I turned on my car and noticed the battery light was on. Well, I'm no mechanic, so I just thought, "Psh, whatever, Maxwell (that's what I named my car)! You turned on, so that's all that matters!" I got out of town and was going 59 mph with the cruise control on, jamming out to some tunes on my iPod, which was plugged into my car via an auxiliary cord. I had my brights on, you know, because it was dark, and I realized that my dashboard lights were a little bit dimmer than normal. I turned my brights off, and the dashboard lights got a bit brighter. "Ha, problem solved," I thought. I continued on my way for a few more miles, and I realized I was slowing down. I thought that was pretty weird, considering the cruise control was on. Then I realized that the cruise control had turned itself off. A few seconds later, the radio turned itself off. I decided I should call my dad to inform him of my current predicament, so, pulling off to the side of the road, I made the call to my dad and explained the situation.
"Where are you?" my dad asked.
"Um, on the side of the road."
"Well, yeah, but where are you?"
"Um, I don't know." There aren't many landmarks between Cold Spring and Litchfield, and the way I go, there aren't any towns, either. I knew where I was, but I didn't know how to explain it to my dad, so I just said, "I don't know." Sometimes I think people think I'm less intelligent than I actually am because I'll do things like this, but really, I'm more intelligent than they think I am, because I know they won't understand what I'm saying, because I'm so intelligent.
"Oh, well just come back home and call me if you don't make it." I'm pretty sure the "if you don't make it," was referring to if I don't make it back to town, not if I die.
About a minute after I turned around, my lights turned themselves off. Like, my headlights. Like, the things that allow me to see the road/where I'm going. So, I'm driving with no lights on at about 8:30 at night. It's dark. I can't see. There were no cars on the road when I was driving towards Litchfield. On my way back to Cold Spring, though, there definitely were cars on the road. Every single car that drove by me flashed their brights at me. Yes, I am aware that my lights are off, but who's in more danger, here? You, who can see the road and see me coming because you have lights, or me, who cannot see anything because A. my lights are off, and B. you're blinding me with your stupid high beams? That's right - me. Guess what - it's now more likely that you will die, because I might veer off into your lane because I can't see. Or, I might veer off into your lane because YOU ARE BLINDING ME WITH YOUR HIGH BEAMS AND I HOPE YOU DIE.
So, that was happening, and I was trying to maneuver my way back home. Everything in my car was not working. Well, that's not true. The brakes, the accelerator, and the steering wheel still worked. Until I got back to Cold Spring. As soon as I entered Cold Spring, the accelerator and the steering wheel stopped working. "This is highly unfortunate," I thought, because those are pretty vital parts to a car. I was going down a hill, though, so I thought maybe the accelerator not working wasn't a huge deal. Then I remembered that there was a turn coming up. I have no idea how I managed to will the car around that turn since the steering wheel didn't work, but I did. The car slowly coasted to a stop as I guided it safely to the side of the road. I called my dad. He came and gave me a jump start. As soon as he pulled the cables off of my car, though, the lights started to go dim again. "Quick! Jump in and give it some gas!" implored my dad. I jumped in, but instead of giving it some gas, I accidentally stepped on the brake, which immediately killed my car. Dejected and defeated, my dad told me to grab my stuff from my car and get into his. So there Maxwell still sits, alone and cold, with dead innards. Til we meet again, Maxwell...
So, that was happening, and I was trying to maneuver my way back home. Everything in my car was not working. Well, that's not true. The brakes, the accelerator, and the steering wheel still worked. Until I got back to Cold Spring. As soon as I entered Cold Spring, the accelerator and the steering wheel stopped working. "This is highly unfortunate," I thought, because those are pretty vital parts to a car. I was going down a hill, though, so I thought maybe the accelerator not working wasn't a huge deal. Then I remembered that there was a turn coming up. I have no idea how I managed to will the car around that turn since the steering wheel didn't work, but I did. The car slowly coasted to a stop as I guided it safely to the side of the road. I called my dad. He came and gave me a jump start. As soon as he pulled the cables off of my car, though, the lights started to go dim again. "Quick! Jump in and give it some gas!" implored my dad. I jumped in, but instead of giving it some gas, I accidentally stepped on the brake, which immediately killed my car. Dejected and defeated, my dad told me to grab my stuff from my car and get into his. So there Maxwell still sits, alone and cold, with dead innards. Til we meet again, Maxwell...
Let's say goodbye with a smile, Maxwell,
Just for a while, Maxwell, we must part.
Don't let the parting upset you,
I'll not forget you, sweetheart.
Just for a while, Maxwell, we must part.
Don't let the parting upset you,
I'll not forget you, sweetheart.
We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when,
But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day.
Keep smiling through, just like you always do,
'Til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away.
But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day.
Keep smiling through, just like you always do,
'Til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away.
So I will say hello to the folks that you know,
I'll tell them you won't be long.
They'll be happy to know that as you saw me go,
I was singing this song.
I'll tell them you won't be long.
They'll be happy to know that as you saw me go,
I was singing this song.
After the rain comes the rainbow,
You'll see the rain go, never fear,
We two can wait for tomorrow,
Goodbye to sorrow, Maxwell, my dear.
"We'll Meet Again" - Vera Lynn, altered by Joe Russell
You'll see the rain go, never fear,
We two can wait for tomorrow,
Goodbye to sorrow, Maxwell, my dear.
"We'll Meet Again" - Vera Lynn, altered by Joe Russell
Sunday, January 1, 2012
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?
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?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)