Get excited. Salvation has arrived. Satellite Guidance Systems. Forget incomprehensible made for 20-20 vision maps. Forget inept gas station attendants insouciantly sending you in the wrong direction. Imagine. An invisible genie in your car now on call twenty-four hours a day to guide one through suburban mazes courtesy of invisible transmission. Truly a marvel.
My heart pounds with excitement at the thought of this
phenomenon since I was born with a major liability: No Directional Gene (NDG) – an affliction
admitted to only by women. I,
personally, have met only one man who acknowledged this deficit. Men claim they always know how to get anywhere
without asking directions - something that is anathema to them. Do they really know or is it some macho fake?
I’m aware that science has yet to isolate the NDG on the
DNA, rightfully preoccupied with more serious anatomical and pathological
issues. However, I am confident that
someday, perhaps even I my lifetime, with all the work being done on genomes,
someone will shout “Eureka!” and we will be able to implant the missing DG. Then we women will easily find esoteric
places with the same je ne said quoi
as people with built in radar systems.
“It’s not so bad without that gene” some might say. “It could be worse.” Absolutely true. However, it has been the bane of my life
whenever I drive into unknown territories in search of some classy suburban
street name. With this peculiarity,
Manhattans is perfect for me. All those wonderful
sequential numbers.
But towns with street names are my nemesis. It typically takes me two to three times
longer than those the DG to get anywhere. An to make matters worse, directions given by people who live and/or
work in those remote place know where they are. I’m not and name it. late for weddings, dinner parties, client meetings,
etc. Friends and business associate know
that my ETA is non-existent. Happily I’m
not listed on the boards at JFK.
One of my favorite examples of “Where am I?” occurred when I
drove my parents to a wedding in Mamaroneck, a Westchester, NY, town with unlit
street signs. The patents of the bridge
thoughtfully enclosed directions with the invitation. Hah! We embarked upon this journey from
Manhattan early since I fully expected to get lost and my father was a
compulsive punctual. Our search was a
replay of an Abbott and Costello skit.
The directions said follow street A to street B to street C, etc., but
neglected to mention how long to stay on each. So in my flowing gown with flash light in hand, we stopped at every
corner, I alit from the car, flashed at the street sign and proceeded to the
next until we finally arrived at the wedding just as the bridge said “I
do.” Dad was not happy. Actually it was not all my fault but it
could’ve been.
Then there was the occasion when my associate and I were off
to a major client “do.” It was in
Princeton, NJ a lovely town. Cruising
along the Jersey Turnpike, we arrived at a tollbooth and were confronted with a
dilemma: a road to the left, one to the right.
Which to take? There were no
signs of course. Since I wasn’t driving
and had no clue as to which was right, I casually suggested to my associate
that we ask the tollbooth man. “No”,
said, she. “It has to be the one on the
left.” Well about an hour later, I
noticed signs indicating the Jersey Shore. Even without the DG, I knew Princeton was definitely not at the Shore. So we existed and headed for the first gas
station.
The attendant was pleasant and made a feeble attempt to be
helpful but said we had to go all the way back to the tollbooth and take the
other road. Ugh. “Isn’t there a shorter rout,” asked I with
incredulity. "Nope." Fortunately a customer overheard this conversation
and advised us of a wonderful road at the next exit that would take us directly
to Princeton. When we arrived almost two
hours late, the client wasn’t the least big surprised. “Glad you could make it,” he said
laughingly. It’s embarrassing but I’m
inured to it.
But back to the miracle. If I correctly understand how this guidance system works which really
isn’t a necessity, these disembodied computer robots can track wherever you are
via a brilliant satellite navigator positioning system. It was originally
created by our Defense Department to help soldiers, ships and planes tell there
where they are. If it actually possible
that our armed forces are members of my no DG club?
So when you’re driving in some no man’s land and desperately
need help, the DSG will help you in seconds telling you where you are and where
you’re going. Now is that great?
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