Danny's favorite toy in all the world is his GPS. He uses it even when he knows where he's going ... like home from work ... BA DUMP BUMP. Anyway, we'd gone to the movies in Pasadena and after that we decided to go to the Macaroni Grill. So, he grabs the GPS to find the nearest one and voila! There's one about two miles up the road. Off we go. We get to the correct address but, it is no longer a Macaroni Grill. It is now Pioneer Pete's Buffet and Cafe ... Wha tha? I don't want to eat there. "I know" I say, "let's go to that little Italian restaurant we went to the last time we were out this way."
Dan: Oh! OK ... I remember that place! It's just up the street a little ways ... on the left.
Me: I don't think so Dan. I think it's closer to Pasadena. I think we have to go back the other way.
Dan: No. I remember. It's just up the street ... a few blocks ... on the left side.
Me: Awww, I don't think so. It's in the other direction Danny. We're going the wrong way.
Dan: Uh ... whose driving?
(This is the part where I gotta keep my mouth shut even though I know we're going in the wrong direction because short of Alan Greenspan coming across the airwaves and announcing ... "ATTENTION! ATTENTION! DAN ... YOU'RE GOING THE WRONG DIRECTION" .... he will not listen to me. We have now entered what I like to call "DANNYLAND". This means that I am in store for a long assed sight-seeing tour until Mr. Nunez realizes, as he eventually always does, that I'm right and, after we've traveled for 40 minutes looking for the restaurant "just up the street on the left", wasted 24 gallons of gas, and my stomach has begun feeding off of itself from sheer starvation ... I realize that I am not going to be eating anytime soon. (Just shoot me in the brain right now).
Ten minutes have now passed and GUESS WHAT? There's no Italian restaurant just up the street on the left. It is now 7:40 pm. I'm getting faint. I realize that there is no turning back ... but ike a sleepy baby who continues to cry even though it's exhausted, I have to let him realize, all on his own, that he doesn't know where he is going. There is nothing I can say. So, deciding that I must do something or implode with frustration, I pick up my book and begin to read.
After a good 10 minutes I feel the car pulling over to the curb. I hear the beep beep beep of the GPS as Dan begins f---ing with it (because God forbid, he'd rather have the GPS tell him that he's going in the wrong direction instead of moi). I say nothing. BEEP. BEEP BEEP. Pause ... BEEEEP. Finally, I look up from my book, I ask him, plead with him, pleeeeze, for the love of God, just turn around and go back.
He smiles, indulgently, with an air of condescension, as I'm sure he is telling himself ... look at her ... all pissed off already and we've only been looking for the stupid restaurant for twelve measly hours ... and then he says to me:
"You know hon ... that's the thing about you ... you can get me really nervous sometimes."
Me: "Uh ... really hon. I'm so sorry. But can I just ask you one thing?"
Dan: "Sure."
Me: "Why is it, that you feel you MUST absolutely continue looking when, after driving through two zip codes, and still not finding the restaurant, you just don't say to yourself .... gee, maybe I am going in the wrong direction after all ... huh? Why is that? Why do you (a) not trust that maybe I might be right; and (b) insist on wasting precious time mindlessly driving, driving, driving because you need prove to me, and to yourself ... that it's just up here, a little ways, ON THE FUCKING LEFT!!!!!
And before I can say another word, I see the crevice of that cute, deep dimple, and finally, he relents, and says .... "I know, I know. I made a mistake" ... and it only took 72 hours.
Dan: No. I remember. It's just up the street ... a few blocks ... on the left side.
Me: Awww, I don't think so. It's in the other direction Danny. We're going the wrong way.
Dan: Uh ... whose driving?
(This is the part where I gotta keep my mouth shut even though I know we're going in the wrong direction because short of Alan Greenspan coming across the airwaves and announcing ... "ATTENTION! ATTENTION! DAN ... YOU'RE GOING THE WRONG DIRECTION" .... he will not listen to me. We have now entered what I like to call "DANNYLAND". This means that I am in store for a long assed sight-seeing tour until Mr. Nunez realizes, as he eventually always does, that I'm right and, after we've traveled for 40 minutes looking for the restaurant "just up the street on the left", wasted 24 gallons of gas, and my stomach has begun feeding off of itself from sheer starvation ... I realize that I am not going to be eating anytime soon. (Just shoot me in the brain right now).
Ten minutes have now passed and GUESS WHAT? There's no Italian restaurant just up the street on the left. It is now 7:40 pm. I'm getting faint. I realize that there is no turning back ... but ike a sleepy baby who continues to cry even though it's exhausted, I have to let him realize, all on his own, that he doesn't know where he is going. There is nothing I can say. So, deciding that I must do something or implode with frustration, I pick up my book and begin to read.
After a good 10 minutes I feel the car pulling over to the curb. I hear the beep beep beep of the GPS as Dan begins f---ing with it (because God forbid, he'd rather have the GPS tell him that he's going in the wrong direction instead of moi). I say nothing. BEEP. BEEP BEEP. Pause ... BEEEEP. Finally, I look up from my book, I ask him, plead with him, pleeeeze, for the love of God, just turn around and go back.
He smiles, indulgently, with an air of condescension, as I'm sure he is telling himself ... look at her ... all pissed off already and we've only been looking for the stupid restaurant for twelve measly hours ... and then he says to me:
"You know hon ... that's the thing about you ... you can get me really nervous sometimes."
Me: "Uh ... really hon. I'm so sorry. But can I just ask you one thing?"
Dan: "Sure."
Me: "Why is it, that you feel you MUST absolutely continue looking when, after driving through two zip codes, and still not finding the restaurant, you just don't say to yourself .... gee, maybe I am going in the wrong direction after all ... huh? Why is that? Why do you (a) not trust that maybe I might be right; and (b) insist on wasting precious time mindlessly driving, driving, driving because you need prove to me, and to yourself ... that it's just up here, a little ways, ON THE FUCKING LEFT!!!!!
And before I can say another word, I see the crevice of that cute, deep dimple, and finally, he relents, and says .... "I know, I know. I made a mistake" ... and it only took 72 hours.
It's a nice little ride, but not one you'd want to live on. Welcome to my world.
Been there, done that. Just don't you make that mistake though; should you, you may be looking at 10 years in prison. LOL I love that they can get lost for as long as they darn well please but if you happen to accidently go the wrong direction for 1/3 of a second the roof of the car blows off. Life.
ReplyDeleteMB
Shoot! I secretly tell Eric that I'll drive cuz I know your tired and I know my car better anyways, but the real reason is that...I HATE THE WAY HE DRIVES...too slow on side streets, too fast on the freeway and can't do 2 things at one time...like look for a restaurant AND drive and god forbid the radios on and call the military if I start to sing...lol He doesn't need directions if I'm driving...I'm anal retentive about them...it's a gift.
ReplyDeletebun
Why do they insist they know where they're going? I guess it's got something to do with mechanical devices and plain old stubborness!
ReplyDeleteCindy Loo
Debbie: This is such a true but certainly not a surprising story you have shared with us. YES!!! we have all been there with our very own "Dannys in Dannyland". It's just gotta be a male ego thing, or something like that. Their brains are just wired differently, I guess.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, great blog as usual my friend. Looking forward to more.
Hi Debbie.
ReplyDeleteI think I am the total opposite of Dan in the driving and directions dept, but even that has not saved me. Unlike the stereotypical man who never asks for directions, I don't wait one minute before looking for a gas station or someone who can give me directions. And sometimes those bloody locals have sent me on a wild goose chase. But I am of good cheer as Anita and I just got our first iphones and they have GPS/maps. Man, it's like a freaking miracle.
Ruben
I feel your pain. I think my ex lives in Dannyland. He once got lost went he went for a run in Rome. He didn’t have any money so he couldn’t take a cab. He didn’t speak Italian. He was gone for three hours. I was pissed.
ReplyDeleteThat would TOTALLY be my husband. I told him that I would never, EVER go on a cruise with him because I'd never find him again. Always wandering off like a 4 year old. Thanks for you comments!
DeleteAs they say, Men: can't live with 'em, can't kill 'em. Not legally anyway. The one place they're good at driving you is Crazy.
ReplyDeleteSo true! Thanks for your comment!
DeleteDeb, that is too funny. My husb has a remote control starter for the car, because in the winter, it is -5000 up here. He uses it all year round--as in, just as we're walking to the car, even in the summer months, he'll point the remote at the car as we're walking towards it. He also loves his GPS. The best one was when he wanted to try a different hotel than the one that we were booked into. We got to the location, 1/2 an hour later, but there was nothing there. The hotel had been closed and demolished about 2 years previous!
ReplyDeleteYeah ... funny NOW. Not so funny THEN! LOL!
Delete