Directions
All of my adult life, strangers have stopped me and asked for directions. Everybody gets asked for help now and then, but I get this a lot. I'm not sure why. Maybe I look like I know where I'm going, or at least don't look threatening. Probably both are true. Most times this happens in Harrisburg, Pa., where I live. The most recent supplicant was a guy who pulled into the Patriot-News parking lot as I was crossing the entrance and asked me how to find 7th Street. Good question: unless he was careful, he would have trouble getting there from 812 Market Street unless he knew to take a detour off Walnut Street through what appears to be a parking lot.
I used to get a lot of requests for help finding the PennDOT building when it was still at the corner of Commonwealth and North Streets. A lot of out-of-towners, average folks for the most part, had to go there to renew licenses and registrations or what-not. With PennDOT's move to Front & Sycamore streets south of Shipoke, I don't get nearly as many of those anymore. But finding the new building can still be confusing, despite the signs. I live in Shipoke, and once in awhile someone will stop their car in front of my house with a befuddled look on their face. At least there's plenty of free parking at the new location.
I even get stopped and asked for directions in New York City, which makes me believe it's something about the way I look. I used to say, sorry, I'm a tourist, too, but now I've been there enough, at least to Manhattan, that I can often help them.
Even I get lost sometimes, and like most men, I don't like to ask for directions. In New York, figuring out which direction to walk when you exit a subway station can be a real challenge. Which way is east? which is west? Unless you've paid careful attention to the direction the train was traveling in relation to where you exited the station, it often falls into the "your guess is as good as mine" category. The two stations I use the most, Park Ave. at 28th St., and Spring Street, one of the SoHo stations, were particularly confusing in that respect, but I finally memorized enough mental cues that I could head in the right direction 90 percent of the time. At least if I was paying attention.
All of this was an introduction to a great idea New York City has some up with. They're going to place directional decals on sidewalks outside of subway stations. The decals will show north, south, east, and west and which direction to walk to get to a particular street. It's a great idea, at least until they're covered with snow and ice, but I do feel a small sense of personal loss.
After all, how often do you get an opportunity to tell a New Yorker where to go?