The Sextant

I'm willing to admit that I've never been that great at navigating.

For one, I usually write down the directions to a place in the vaguest possible way, using symbols and abbreviating street names. Forget about even jotting down the miles between each turn. It seems so frivolous to me - to know exactly how far down the next street you're looking for is.

And yet without knowing how far you have to go, you're just looking around trying to spot your destination - not really keeping your eyes on the road.

I remember in my third or fourth week in Los Angeles, I wanted to go to Pink's Hot Dogs to try one of their historic, iconic dogs. The place has been open before the invention of agriculture and catered (and still does) to the big stars of the day. Since I was still in tourist mode, I really wanted to soak in LA culture - and this is just another part of it.

So I set out from my place with some poorly written directions and headed out. I hit La Brea just off 3rd and started making my way through traffic north toward Hollywood Blvd. Pink's is a smaller building, sort of hard to see, but their sign is large and memorable. Still, I didn't see it. I had been driving for several blocks and I felt totally lost. I still didn't know the city well, my directions were lousy and it should have been just up ahead on the left. I should have been, I thought, always just on the next block. But it wasn't, and I was starting to get worried that I had gone too far.

It may seem like worry is an odd reaction to not seeing a hot dog stand, but if you've ever driven in LA, you understand that having to turn around or find an alternate way to get to where you're going, especially when you've only been there a month, is like being asked to parallel park a monster truck into a teacup.

The worry spread. It grew and locked in on my whole body until I was convinced that I had passed it - that I had gone too far. The feeling was so real, and I had so convinced myself that it was true, that I made the decision to turn around. I just needed the right street and a little access to pull around and head back down La Brea.

And then I spotted it. Just a block ahead on the left.

This is a really common story in my life. Maybe because I write terrible directions, maybe because it's just human nature, but it seems that at the very moment I give up hope, I find what I'm looking for.