The Maze

A Story Celebrating the Comedic Aspects of Not Being a Human Compass

Punctuality and directional literacy tend to go together like cheese and crackers. You might say that people who aren’t as proficient with directions as say, a cartographer is, should give themselves extra time when navigating to new locations. This is a fair comment; however, occasionally one is just too busy navigating the complexity of life to leave for a destination the necessary 16-hours early!

“The Maze” explores the phenomenon of being directionally inept, and the fun (?) that this can add to an individual like Paislee’s life.

I gripped the steering wheel with lion-like force and tried to ignore the clock, that though digital seemed to be commandeering my rational thoughts with its incessant ticking.

“Shh…magical time-teller…I can do this…I will find my way and get there on time…” I said half to the digital device and half to myself, with just a hint (a splash, if you will) of panic in my voice.

Of course, I was on my way to a very important meeting…one that I could just NOT be late for…but I was desperately lost.

My GPS and I had not been on the same wavelength for the journey thus far (let’s just say that I had mistaken my navigational pal’s “turn rights” for “turn lefts” a few too many times) and it seemed to be in a constant state of “rerouting” me.

“Turn right in 300 metres,” the GPS instructed.

As I anxiously approached the corner, I was greeted by a chorus of brightly coloured construction signs. The showstopper, of course, was the “road closed” sign, which quickly caused the lifeblood to drain from my body.

“Crappity crap. Are you FOR REAL!?” Of course, as I gazed in desperation at my digital guide, I was met with the sinister rerouting message again.

I heard a loud, continuous car horn honk behind me. “Uh oh…someone’s in trouble,” I thought to myself. Approximately three seconds later, I responsibly conducted a rear-view mirror check, and noticed a fellow sitting in his car behind me, ever-so-kindly displaying his middle finger in my direction, and seemingly yelling “MOVE, IDIOT!!”

“Dangit!’” I shouted, as the crude gesture and fuming lip movements enlightened me to the fact that I was (inadvertently!) stopping the flow of traffic as I waited for my navigational machine to rescue me.

I put my foot on the gas and sped off, really hoping that the rage vehicle behind me would soon turn down a different path so I could avoid another run in with his feisty hand gestures and Satan-like words.

Luckily, I was touched by an angel as my fearless leader suddenly came back to life and directed me to take the next left turn. I made a strong comeback (and really stuck it to the irate driving critic behind me) as I glided around the corner with magnificent control and skill.

“I HAVE to be close, I’ve been trapped in this vehicle for years now…!” I said naively to the ghosts of past snacks (wrappers) lingering in my car.

At that moment, a young man wearing a florescent vest stepped out into the street in front of me, and I thought, “well, that’s one way to mitigate the risk of jaywalking”. Unfortunately for me, he then held out a forbidding stop sign seemingly targeted in my general direction. Exacerbating that, he motioned to a large dinosaur-esque vehicle stationed on the side of the road to cross the street.

“Gosh dangit!! It might be time to bring out that Removing the Curse from Inside of You book again….”

I glanced at the ominous clock and quickly calculated how much longer I had to get to my date with Queen Elizabeth II (okay, it wasn’t that, but let’s just say it was of similar importance). According to the timekeeper, I had ten minutes to get to my destination on time, and the GPS forecasted my travel time at five minutes. Things appeared to be under control if I stayed on the straight and narrow and refrained from participating in any further transportation rebellion.

Once the steel dragon had finished crossing the road, I forged onwards. It was at that very moment, however, that I remembered being told that securing parking a comfortable walking distance from my destination would require me to sell a liver and lung (note to self: what body parts can you sell? Is this lucrative?).

In the timeliest of ways, a parking lot sign came into view up ahead. Though it was certainly a less than comfortable distance away from my destination, the sign seemed to indicate it was affordable for people who don’t want to get involved in black-market organ selling, so I jumped on the opportunity.

I purchased my pauper’s parking ticket with ease, and as soon as the “you are paid and in the clear, you law-abiding citizen!” message appeared on the screen, I heard a starting pistol in my mind.

I tried to imitate the smooth movements of a panther (and hoped my skin resembled the shiny, luxurious nature of the enchanting feline’s fur) as I ran down the sidewalk. Though my effort was incredible, I was definitely in the middle of a nightmare. I was heading in the opposite direction of the herd, and thus had to perform limbo-like motions under couples holding hands, leap over strollers with infants closing their eyes in fear (or maybe they were sleeping…), and run through leashes being held by dutiful dog owners as if they were finish-line ribbons (trust me – they were not!).

In other news, I had absolutely no idea where my final destination was situated, and this was a definite disadvantage in successfully completing the challenge. I was 100% reliant on a gadget who though I liked on a more casual basis, certainly wasn’t in a committed relationship with.

“Turn left at Turtle Street,” the GPS guided me.

“Okay….!” I panted. “Ahhh where is it?!?…200 metres?!?” I glanced at the screen to confirm the distance. “Should be just up here…”

Suddenly, the instructions transformed to, “continue down Tortoise Avenue for 600 meters”.

“What the heck…okay…just keep calm and listen to the directional genius…” Though I was trying to use the power of positive thinking, I was becoming increasingly anxious. In case you’re keeping track, my remaining time had depleted to four minutes.

“Turn left at Turtle Street.”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS. You seem a bit unsure about where we’re heading!!!! ALSO, why do these roads all have the SAME NAME!!” I angrily shouted. Other homo-sapiens walking down the street started to stare at me, and I felt compelled to cover my ears with my hands to disguise the fact that I wasn’t wearing wireless headphones and talking to someone on the phone (versus revealing the reality that I was yelling at a creepily “almost-human but not really” device).

I had to make a very sudden turn to accommodate for my GPS’ lack of foresight (which is dangerous when you’re running much faster than the recommended speed for your leather dress shoes). This resulted in me slamming into a woman carrying a tray of coffees (because why run into a regular fellow pedestrian when you can run into the one who has philanthropically offered to buy the entire office a $6, extra-large, light but not too light, stirred 4.5 times, contained in a cup that has been gently kissed by a saint -coffee beverage?!?).

“AHHHH!!” The kind-hearted woman let out an understandable yelp.

My face reddened as I took in the carnage (it was a pretty gory coffee-homicide scene) and shouted in despair, “I’M SO SORRY!!!”

Passers-by stared in shock (and even did the whole mouth-covering bit), snapped pictures that they likely sent to their homies over Snapchat (“you think you’re having a bad day, well check this out…!”), and generally fell in the unhelpful category.

The body-checked victim shifted her angelic gaze from the wasted liquid treasure to me. “Don’t worry about it! At least it’s just coffee!”

As I silently thanked my lucky stars that she wasn’t threatening to sue, my mind shifted back to the task at hand. My collision had eaten up a good chunk of my remaining time and I was sure I only had about two minutes left. It was obviously time to use a lifeline (Who Wants to be a Millionaire style) …

“Mam, I’m so sorry to bother you after the trouble I’ve caused, but I’m looking for this address,” I said to the extremely resilient and positive woman as I pointed to the address on my GPS. (I should also note that the entire time I had been stopped, the device had been shouting out “continue north for 450 metres”, so that really added to the ambiance of the situation.)

“No way!” She excitedly replied. “That’s my office building…you don’t happen to be Paislee…”?

My mind started racing and I wondered, “is she an uncover police officer? Am I wanted for disturbing the peace a few minutes ago as I plowed through innocent sidewalk pedestrians?”

I forced myself to smile and attempted to look as law-abiding as possible. I also did a “half-raise” of my hands by my side, just in anticipation of her asking me to put them above my head.

She continued, “I’m Ella. You’re meeting with my boss right away! I was just picking up coffees for you guys. She was about to go get them, but she is so bad with directions and doesn’t know the area well. I thought she’d get lost if she went and I’d end up having to entertain you until she got back! Trust me, you don’t want to see me do the ‘Macarena’ more than once!”

I sighed with relief while trying to disguise the fact that I thought I’d be making a phone call for someone to bail me out of jail in a second. I carried on in a surprisingly professional and natural way, “well, that’s just too funny! I will certainly replace those coffees!”

“Oh please! We’ll charge the ‘funny story fund’ for those. Let me walk you upstairs and then I’ll come back down and grab you guys another one.”

I tossed my GPS in a nearby garbage can (just kidding – I turned it off and telepathically told it that “we would have a serious chat later”) and Ella led me through the doors of the nearest building and into the elevator. As Ella and I flew upwards in the elevator I reflected on how funny it is that though at first glance a situation can be an absolute disaster (e.g., the coffee massacre), once you delve a bit deeper, positive magic may emerge (e.g., finding your way out of an intricate navigational maze)!