Not all those who wander are lost and then there are those who, deep down, wonder why we wander aimlessly.
Me? I blame the deep blue sea…
“Good lord, it’s…it’s…it’s THE END OF THE WORLD!” I was totally freaking out, man.
“The hell you talking about, dude?” my junior high buddy, Nick, asked, obviously much less concerned.
“The sun…the sun–don’t you see it–it’s setting in the north!” I gestured emphatically in the general direction of our nearest global pole.
We had just come out of the bowling alley on the Navy base we both lived on, and I kept rubbing my eyes in disbelief as they adjusted to the surprisingly bright dusk, and my mind tried to handle the overwhelming amount of cognitive dissonance.
“Uh…that’s west, dumbass, where it usually sets,” Nick calmly stated.
“Dude, no it’s not. Here let me draw a map for you.”
I grabbed a stick and etched out an approximation of this map:
“We’re on the West Coast, see?” I explained. “The water is that way–west. You turn 90 degrees to your right, and you’re facing north–and staring at a setting sun. And you don’t see anything wrong with this picture?!?”
“Oh, you silly Kansas kids. It’s cute that you think ‘water equals west’ here in California,” Nick condescended to me. “Here, let me fix that map of yours…”
He then preceded to sketch out approximately the following in the dirt:
“You got your map turned 90 degrees, jackass,” he pointed out. “As you can see, in these parts of the West Coast, about half the time the ocean is to the south. Such is the case for our current locale, Point Mugu.”
I stared hard at his hand-carved map.
“You sure about this? This doesn’t seem right. I’m pretty sure the West Coast runs straight north and south,” I double-downed on my dumbassery.
Nick just rolled his eyes hard.
“I’ll show you an actual map made by real cartographers and printed on real paper when we get back to my place. Will you believe me then?”
“I don’t know…maybe. Are these the same cartographers trying to trick us all into thinking the world is round and not flat?”
“Wait, what?”
“Just kidding, Nicholas, jeez. Yes, if you present me with solid evidence, then yes, I would be able to override my opinions and gut feelings.”
*moments later, at Nick’s place*
“Well, I’ll be jiggly-darned,” I said as I let out a low whistle. “The water isn’t always to the west.”
“Thank you,” said Nick, still in disbelief that it had taken this much to convince me.
“Dude, I’ve lived here for almost 7 months now,” I said, turning to face Nick. “And now you tell me? What kind of friend lets his best buddy run around for that long with his mental map rotated a full 90 degrees like a complete jerk?”
“Me??? This is somehow my fault?” Nick was incredulous.
“No…I suppose not,” I conceded. “But, dang…this is just plain embarrassing.”
I paused for a moment to digest this earth-shattering revelation.
“Well, at least that would explain why I’ve felt this inexplicable feeling of ick every time I’ve stepped foot outside since I’ve been here…”
“Oh, sh*t. Not again,” I muttered to myself.
Nearly 20 years later I had landed a dream job in a land that was all coast–Hawai’i. And as I expectantly awaited My Beautiful Bride to pick me up on a side street near the hospital where I worked, I just couldn’t figure out why the sun was setting in the south.
I gotta briefly point out, though, while it is somewhat discomforting to see the sun on the southern horizon, it’s somehow not as unsettling as it was before when it appeared to be in the north.
Nevertheless, I had somehow incorrectly set me internal compass.
“Let’s see…I’ve already accounted for the water being pretty much straight south here in Honolulu. And the H11One of the main ‘interstates’ on Oahu. runs pretty much east-west, and that’s to my right hand side–making that north…and to my left the sun is setting. Dammit.”
I was baffled.
“What’s even worse is that I’m facing the same direction as my work desk…which I could swear faces south. Yet, based on past experience, when I see the sun setting, I should know better to believe it when it’s telling me I’m looking west…and since I have to look to my left, that would mean that…I’m facing north. WTF, mate???”
At this point I was full-on having a conversation with myself out loud.
“Alright, I’m just going to look this up on Google Maps when I get home.”
Wisdom of the ages had taught me not to fight this insanity without facts.
*moments later, in front of my home computer*
“Ah, Google Maps, you have explained so much to me,” I said as I looked at this properly oriented map:
I even annotated it for you, with the big arrow in the middle representing the direction I’d be facing when I exited the building where I worked at Queen’s Medical Center. As you can see, my main orientation point was the H1 running parallel to what would be my right. And of course, this point would have to be the exception to the general east-west directionality of the H1, and that a-hole would have to be running north-south right when I was counting on it to be consistent.
“Well, at least the world isn’t ending,” I said, relieved. “But that doesn’t answer why my desk feels like it’s facing south…”
The only upside to this secondary mystery was that it only to plague me locally. Nonetheless, for the next two years I had to sit there in my windowless workspace, nearly in tears knowing that everything I knew about which way I was facing was dead wrong…
“I’m not going to miss sitting in this disorienting af room, I’ll tell you that much!” I quipped to Eric, the guy who had sat next to me my entire time there.
It my last day of work, and while I really did not want to leave Hawai’i, I was ready to bid good riddance to my chronic compass-related discombobulation.
“Ah, so you feel it too then?” Eric asked somewhat cryptically.
“Uh..feel what?”
“That that way feels like north,” he said pointing directly behind us, though we both knew dang well by this point that it was south.
“YES. So I’m not the only one?” I was relieved to know that I wasn’t suffering alone at least. (After all, why should I be the only one in complete misery?)
“Oh, yeah, pretty much any male that works in this space has thought that was north,” Eric informed me.
“What? That is weird!”
“Not really,” Eric said. “We’re pretty sure it’s the 3-Tesla magnetic field of the MRI machine.”
“Aaaaahhh…” I said as I gazed fondly at the MRI room that had been there this whole time, a mere 25 feet behind me. “Well, sh*t, that explains that.”
But this new insight brought up new questions.
“Dude, I’ve worked here for almost 24 months now,” I said, turning to face Eric. “And now you tell me? What kind of co-worker lets his trusty colleage run around for that long with his mental map rotated a full 180 degrees like a complete jerk?”
“Me??? This is somehow my fault?” Eric was incredulous.
“No…I suppose not,” I conceded. “But, dang…this is just plain embarrassing.”
I paused for a moment to digest this earth-spinning revelation.
“Huhn. We really do have reliable compasses in our noses after all. Neat…”
“Honolulu…Long Beach…Málaga…New Orleans. Honolulu…Long Beach…Málaga…New Orleans. Honolulu…Long Beach…Málaga…New Orleans.”
No matter how much I told myself that my temporary home for the next 5 weeks was just like all the other places where I had successfully tuned my intuition to tell me that the water was to the south, I could already sense that I was screwed. As you may recall from a few years ago, the family and I had to take refuge at the beach while our house was being repaired and remodeled. And that particular fun house was located on Oak Island, NC.
I’m sure you, Dear Reader, are aware that North Carolina is on the East Coast…yeah, you can already see where this is going.
Anyways, yada, yada, ya and next thing I know I’m watching a beautiful sun rising in the north.
Okay, okay, I admit that I knew going into it that the entire beach on Oak Island ran almost perfectly east-west, thus putting the Atlantic Ocean due south. But alas, the point of the story is that you can lead a Kansas boy to water, but you can’t teach that old dog that that water he’s looking at isn’t necessarily due east just because it’s the Atlantic Ocean.
…
…
Hmm…I think I mixed one too many metaphors there. What I’m really trying to say is that for some of us out there, directional discombobulation can be a very real, very debilitating affliction. If there is someone in your life like this that finds them in improperly-oriented situation, show them some mercy.
But whatever you do, keep them far, far away from misaligned coastal maps and strong medical-grade magnets…
Content created on: 16/17 February 2024 (Fri/Sat)
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