The Amazing Ask-for-Directions Show

I’ve driven into the city hundreds of times, so it says something about the “spontaneity” of my navigational skills that I can still get myself lost getting there or back. Usually in downtown Newark or Hillside, which are, as i've been "warned," economically depressed areas. This last is advertised by the chains of police cars, sirens all a-blaring, racing to some routine crisis. Being female, however, I’m able to ask for directions and repair my route instead of--ahem!--ending up in Edison (why, hello, A.D.L. :). But the most memorably fun directions to date weren’t from the street-corner kids or the cop who escorted me to the highway. It’s, hands down, the NJ Transit bus driver who not only stopped alongside me at two traffic lights, coaching me on how to get on I-95, but also, when the time came for me to branch out of the sheltering shadow of his colossal bus, turned on all his blinkers and lights and his P.A. system and reminded me to, “Turn right. Here! Now!” through the SPEAKERS. And when I turned to wave my thanks, some of his passengers waved back. It made me laugh all the way to Prince Street--where sadly, I kind of got lost again. All of which makes it kinda sweet,* I guess, that Big A wants to go on The Amazing Race with me. * I think he’d prefer--by a very small margin--to be called “sweet” rather than “stupid.” ___