This post is written for members of the directionally dyslexic community. Non-members are welcome to read but they probably won’t get it.
Some cities are easy to navigate; others are nightmares. In the small western city where I live, the mountains are always visible, and they’re always, blessedly, to the west. In addition, the streets that run north-to-south are consecutively numbered. I’m thankful that I live in a city where it is difficult to lose your way. Manhattan, where I spent last month, is pretty good too, except for the confusing lower downtown. Manhattan is on a grid. Ninety-fourth Street Street is always north of 93rd and 2nd Avenue is always east of 3rd Avenue. The worst that can happen is that you walk one short block in the wrong direction and then right yourself. But other cities are impossible. Take Washington D.C., for example. Washington could only have been laid out by a sadist whose aim was to drive the directionally-disabled off their collective rockers. It’s those damn diagonals, which cut through the grid at every conceivable angle. A few steps along one of those diagonals and the points of the compass become hopelessly shuffled. And then Washington throws in a few wayward, wandering streets that were added just to cause pain.
When we visit Washington, we stay at a home on Nevada Avenue that’s a half-hour walk from the Friendship Heights Metro. I’ve memorized the route (I’m good at rote learning). But last month, we (that is myself and my spouse — actually "guide" is the better term) — set out on a different path from station to home. Why did we do so? I don’t know; it wasn’t my decision. A minute hadn’t elapsed before I had lost my bearings and had no idea whether we were heading north south east or west or how our improvised path stood in relation to the route that I had mechanically mastered. My guide, who is not directionally-disabled, sometimes forgets, even after all these years, that a few steps on the oblique and I’m completely buffaloed.
This time, I decided that instead of whining "where are we?" at every street corner, I would just keep my mouth shut. I pretended confidence, though I hung back at every corner so as not to commit to a ludicrously wrong direction. I played follow the leader. Sometimes we were on the grid, sometimes we took diagonals, sometimes we took one of those eccentric curving streets. My DD compeers understand that at each of the thirty or so corners that we approached, I had not an inkling whether my guide would choose left, or right, or straight ahead. But I was, let me tell you, oh so cool. After a while, the terrain began to grow familiar, but just between us, let me confess that it wasn’t until we were thirty feet from our target that I knew where I was.
So, friends, here’s my new formula: keep quiet, hang back, avoid humiliation.
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