The trip up to visit our friends at their new house was so confusing, we had to use a map and two navigation systems just to get us in the right general area. The problem was, the location was so rural, half the streets that were on the map didn’t actually exist, and half the streets we passed weren’t on any map. Had we been travelling at night, we probably would have ended up in a pasture somewhere, visiting a couple of cows instead of our friends.
Fortunately for us, we were driving up during the day, which meant we might actually have a chance of finding our friends if we rolled down the windows and asked directions from a chicken.
“Is this it?” I asked my husband, pointing to the next street. The GPS said to make the third turn and I thought I had counted two streets before this one.
“No, this is Knotta Street,” he responded looking at the printed map.
“Is it a driveway?” I asked.
“No, it’s a street,” he said.
“I thought you said it wasn’t a street.” I wondered.
“No, I said it’s Knotta Street,” he clarified.
I pulled off to the side and stopped the car.
“I don’t understand,”I responded. “Is it a street or isn’t it?”
“It is. It’s Knotta Street.”
I stared at him. I was really confused. “How can it be a street and not a street at the same time?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied. “What street are we looking for again?”
“Issa Street,” I said.
“Issa Street,” I repeated. “Is this it?”
“NO!” he yelled. “This is Knotta Street!”
“I KNOW IT’S NOT A STREET!” I yelled back.
We glared at each other.
“OK, let’s try again,” he said, taking a deep breath. “What street are we looking for?”
“I know it’s a street,” he sighed. “What’s it called?”
“What’s what called?” I asked.
“The street we need to turn onto,” he said less calmly.
“ISSA STREET!” I yelled again. “IS THIS IT?!?”
“NO!!! THIS IS KNOTTA STREET!”
I yanked the map out of his hands and peered down at it.
“Ohhhh,” I exhaled. “This street is called Knotta Street.”
“That’s what I said,” he said.
“We are looking for Issa Street,” I said, pointing to the street on the map.
“Ohhhh. OK, I think we are on the same page now,” he nodded in understanding. “We want to find Issa street. Is that the last street?”
“No,” I said, studying the map. “We just passed Delast Street.”
“So this is the last street?”
“No, that was Delast Street.”
“I give up,” he said. “Call your friends and tell them to meet us in town.”
“OK,” I agreed. “What’s the name of the town.”
“It’s Knotta town,” he said.
I sighed. “Third base.”
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