Just in case you didn’t believe I was an Asian woman…
Poof is constantly giving me shit for being Asian and being a terrible driver. Her purse always falls over in my car when I drive. Apparently, I’m just building upon the stereotype.
I’m really not that bad of a driver. Similarly, I’m not that bad at directions. But I’ve fucked up things enough on a few occasions that I don’t really help the stereotypes. Asian Women suck at driving, and all women suck at directions.
The very first time I drove to the D to see BabyDaddy was in 2007. Smart phones were not smart enough to have GPS on them. I did not have a functioning printer to get MapQuest. Thus, I went on BabyDaddy’s word that I was to exit the highway at the 11 mile road exit. Simple enough, right?
My roommate and I were scoping out the signs looking for 11 mile. We hit exit 21.
“11 Mile!” I shout.
“We found it!” She shouts.
We’re so thrilled with ourselves. We haven’t gotten killed on our road trip to Detroit! We exit the highway and follow BabyDaddy’s instructions to his house…until we realize that this doesn’t look like the nice suburbia neighborhood that I remember.
I realize this when a purple car pulls up next to us at a red light. It had lights underneath it. It is bouncing. And the large men in the front seat are giving us the nod. One of them mentions to me to roll my window down.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to be here,” I whisper.
“Do not. Look at them.” My roommate is staring straight ahead, eyes locked on the road.
We pull forward as the light turns green. I scramble for my phone and call TheCousin.
“We got off the highway and we don’t know where we are and there are scary people and BabyDaddy got me lost,” I tell him instead of a greeting.
TheCousin laughs at me and asks where we are. He says to pull over in a public location and that he’ll come find us and lead us to safety.
We hide out in a Wendy’s and eat frosty’s with the doors locked until he gets there. I jump out of the car and give him a huge hug.
He’s still laughing at me. “How the hell did you end up here?“
It’s my birthday weekend. GoldDust and I have dressed up and are prepared to paint the town red. The destination? Royal Oak. I’ve never been out there before. I’m useless, direction-wise.
GoldDust is texting JukeBox. He’s asking where we’re going. She tells him the location, and he replies:
No one goes there.
We shrug this off, and park GoldDust’s rabbit. She pulls up the bar on her GPS and off we go. Her iPhone is telling us we’re only a couple blocks away, which seems okay to walk…says the two girls in five inch heels.
After walking awhile, the only thing I’m thinking of is to concentrate on walking and not falling. Eyes on the sidewalk. Nothing else matters except staying upright. Normally, I’m intoxicated when I’m thinking like this. But that’s the only thing I’m concentrating on.
“It should be…right…here,” GoldDust is glaring at her screen. She hands me the phone. “It says we’re here.”
She’s right. The blue dot is right on top of where the bar supposedly is. I look around. There is nothing that looks like a bar around us. I look back down at the phone. It blinks cheerily at me, announcing our arrival.
Then the blue dot flicks me off, then moves to another block away.
Fucking GPS making me walk further in my five inch heels.
No wonder JukeBox told GoldDust that no one goes to this bar. It’s because no one can find it.
We finally discover the Lost Bar of Atlantis. Sit, order, put up your feet. We were supposed to meet up with Tits McGee, but she’s nowhere to be found. JukeBox was talking about meeting up with us too, but he’s sidetracked in some other area of the D.
“What are your thoughts?” GoldDust asks me.
I think we both know that getting lost in R.O. is a buzzkill on the night. We decide to carry our heels, walk back to the car, and call it a night.
…which we do…
Until we’re walking down the street, barefoot, and GoldDust proclaims,
“Where the hell did we park?!”