Lost in Yonkers
A few years ago my family took a vacation that consisted of visiting family in Philadelphia and then heading up to Bar Harbor, Maine. This was kindof a spur of the moment trip. We had planned on going out west, but because of forest fires in Colorado, we changed our plans. So we didn't really have a planned route to drive, or really any definite time frames of when we were going to get there. Although, my mom made it abundantly clear that we would neither be stopping in, nor driving through New York City. If we had to we would drive from Philly to Maine via Canada to avoid New York. My Mom hates big cities. To her they are dirty, crowded and dangerous. I on the other hand LOVE big cities, especially New York City. It's full of so much excitement, life and energy. I was very disappointed that we were sooooo close to my favorite city, and I wouldn't even get to see it!
Well, in my family when we switch drivers we generally also switch navigators. It isn't a written rule, it just sort of happens. At this time we had 4 drivers in my family, but 6 navigators. You don't have to be of legal age to drive or have any experience driving to navigate. You just have to be able to hold the map right side up. As you can guess directions can get complicated because every navigator has a different idea of how to get there.
So, my brother, seeking to find the most efficient and satisfactory route, suggests that we cut through a corner of New York, hit a different highway and take it up the coast to Maine. It should be really pretty driving along the New England coast and I'll at least get to see New York. Sounds good. We all agree (By we, I mean Mom) and set our bearings for NEW YORK CITY.
There are a couple reasons why this was a bad idea.
1. We hit New York at rush hour. Something about miscalculating the miles between Philly and New York. Funny how much difference there is between a straight line between two points, and the highway systems.
2. They were doing night time construction on the bridge that we had to cross. Apparently in New York night time construction begins when the largest volume of cars are coming out of the city. So that took us an hour to cross.
3. The bridge was a toll bride. My dad hates tolls - they are inefficient wastes of his time and gas. Yeah, heard about that for the whole hour. We did come up with a better way to run the tolls though. I'll tell you for $100.
So by the time we cross the bridge it's late. Way later than it should have been. We were not making it to Maine that night. To make matters worse, in the chaos of road construction, we miss our exit. Grrr.
We exit, turn around and start heading back. Only the construction is worse on this side of the road and we are getting directed back across the bridge. CRAP. All the members of my family probably wouldn't survive another trip across that bridge. And my Dad sure wasn't paying toll again. Exit again, get back on, look for highway.
We didn't miss it the first time. No. It doesn't exist. Oh the map says it does, but what are maps really? Conspiracies of cartographers. Those sick people get joy out of mapping roads that don't exist.
So our new navigator suggests we exit and just take "back roads" to our highway. This could be challenging since we only have a road atlas and no street map of New York. Oh well. How hard can it be? We start our back road journey in White Plains. Apparently the "back roads" of White Plains don't really lead to anywhere besides other parts of White Plains. It was like we were stuck in some horror story, where all the roads lead back to the murder scene. Except we didn't see any murders.
We decide to stop and ask for directions. Gas station attendants should be helpful, but New York gas station attendants are not. No, they don't even know the name of the freakin' street they are on, much less how to get anywhere. Cursed public transportation. See in Ohio, most gas station attendants don't really know what street you are looking for, because us Buckeyes like to change the name of a street 3, 4, or 5 times in 1.5 miles. But they will do their gas stationly duty, pretend they know exactly what street you need, make up some directions and send you on your way. New York attendants instead ask you to repeat the name of the street their gas station is on to better commit it to memory.
We left two attendants mulling over street names and tried to find a way out of New York on our own. We managed to get out of White Plains into Yonkers. Great. Now we are lost in Yonkers. At this point it's about 1 am and I'm driving. My mom asks me what the sign we just passed said.
"Welcome to the Bronx."
It might as well have said "Welcome to your death." because at this point we were wondering if we would ever make it out alive. But, wait. Is that a green highway sign we see? I turn the van to investigate, and realize the sign might as well have said "Welcome to your death." for I had just turned down a road that looked like a very good place to rob and kill a lost family.
Burned out cars lined one side of this dead-end street, a junk yard occupied the other side, and the lone street light stood at the end of the street at the entrance to a very shady looking bar.
"Don't stop the van." My dad ordered. "When you get to a nice place, pull over. I'm driving."
Fine. Like this was my fault.
I bust a Uie out of the death street, pull over, switch drivers and keep searching for a way out. By some miracle we find our way out of the Bronx, into New Jersey and crash in a hotel. Thus, ending the night we got Lost in Yonkers.
Well, in my family when we switch drivers we generally also switch navigators. It isn't a written rule, it just sort of happens. At this time we had 4 drivers in my family, but 6 navigators. You don't have to be of legal age to drive or have any experience driving to navigate. You just have to be able to hold the map right side up. As you can guess directions can get complicated because every navigator has a different idea of how to get there.
So, my brother, seeking to find the most efficient and satisfactory route, suggests that we cut through a corner of New York, hit a different highway and take it up the coast to Maine. It should be really pretty driving along the New England coast and I'll at least get to see New York. Sounds good. We all agree (By we, I mean Mom) and set our bearings for NEW YORK CITY.
There are a couple reasons why this was a bad idea.
1. We hit New York at rush hour. Something about miscalculating the miles between Philly and New York. Funny how much difference there is between a straight line between two points, and the highway systems.
2. They were doing night time construction on the bridge that we had to cross. Apparently in New York night time construction begins when the largest volume of cars are coming out of the city. So that took us an hour to cross.
3. The bridge was a toll bride. My dad hates tolls - they are inefficient wastes of his time and gas. Yeah, heard about that for the whole hour. We did come up with a better way to run the tolls though. I'll tell you for $100.
So by the time we cross the bridge it's late. Way later than it should have been. We were not making it to Maine that night. To make matters worse, in the chaos of road construction, we miss our exit. Grrr.
We exit, turn around and start heading back. Only the construction is worse on this side of the road and we are getting directed back across the bridge. CRAP. All the members of my family probably wouldn't survive another trip across that bridge. And my Dad sure wasn't paying toll again. Exit again, get back on, look for highway.
We didn't miss it the first time. No. It doesn't exist. Oh the map says it does, but what are maps really? Conspiracies of cartographers. Those sick people get joy out of mapping roads that don't exist.
So our new navigator suggests we exit and just take "back roads" to our highway. This could be challenging since we only have a road atlas and no street map of New York. Oh well. How hard can it be? We start our back road journey in White Plains. Apparently the "back roads" of White Plains don't really lead to anywhere besides other parts of White Plains. It was like we were stuck in some horror story, where all the roads lead back to the murder scene. Except we didn't see any murders.
We decide to stop and ask for directions. Gas station attendants should be helpful, but New York gas station attendants are not. No, they don't even know the name of the freakin' street they are on, much less how to get anywhere. Cursed public transportation. See in Ohio, most gas station attendants don't really know what street you are looking for, because us Buckeyes like to change the name of a street 3, 4, or 5 times in 1.5 miles. But they will do their gas stationly duty, pretend they know exactly what street you need, make up some directions and send you on your way. New York attendants instead ask you to repeat the name of the street their gas station is on to better commit it to memory.
We left two attendants mulling over street names and tried to find a way out of New York on our own. We managed to get out of White Plains into Yonkers. Great. Now we are lost in Yonkers. At this point it's about 1 am and I'm driving. My mom asks me what the sign we just passed said.
"Welcome to the Bronx."
It might as well have said "Welcome to your death." because at this point we were wondering if we would ever make it out alive. But, wait. Is that a green highway sign we see? I turn the van to investigate, and realize the sign might as well have said "Welcome to your death." for I had just turned down a road that looked like a very good place to rob and kill a lost family.
Burned out cars lined one side of this dead-end street, a junk yard occupied the other side, and the lone street light stood at the end of the street at the entrance to a very shady looking bar.
"Don't stop the van." My dad ordered. "When you get to a nice place, pull over. I'm driving."
Fine. Like this was my fault.
I bust a Uie out of the death street, pull over, switch drivers and keep searching for a way out. By some miracle we find our way out of the Bronx, into New Jersey and crash in a hotel. Thus, ending the night we got Lost in Yonkers.
posted by Andi at
2:15 PM
