Oct 31, 2014 3 min read

I went to Washington, D.C., last weekend. It was a great little getaway. I stayed in Bethesda, a short 11 miles from the Capitol. Besides, I like saying Bethesda. The word has a nice rhythm to it. I would never go somewhere just because I like the sound of the name, especially since I was always fond of the word Drubrovnik.

While I was there, I met up with my Aunt Terri. Naturally, shenanigans ensued.

We were on a hiking trail in Bethesda, six miles from Georgetown. On a whim, we decided to go the distance and walk all the way to the university. We hiked alongside the Potomac River, among spectacular fall foliage.

We strode the vibrant Georgetown campus. It was a lovely afternoon. We also burned some shoe leather. I had new tennis shoes on, and some blisters bubbled up on my soles of my feet. We had to take a cab back to the hotel.

That night, after a hot shower, I went back out. I started my evening at a club that had a parking lot. People were out in Halloween costumes. Around midnight, I decided to head back to the hotel.

I was sitting at a red light watching more zombies, vampires, witches and clowns stride by. I decided maybe I wasn’t ready to call it a night. As luck would have it, I found a parking spot on the street. It was like winning the lottery.

I wandered around the city, adding more miles to my already blistered feet. At 1:30 a.m., I decided to call it a night and walk back to my car. That’s when I realized my mistake.

Did I park on New Hampshire NW or Massachusetts NW? I didn’t remember. I went down New Hampshire NW first. Then, when things no longer looked familiar, I knew I must have been on Massachusetts NW.

I walked New Hampshire, back to the roundabout where I started my evening. I found Massachusetts NW and proceeded to limp down the street. The blisters became very angry at me. I walked several blocks down Massachusetts NW. Once again, I got to a spot where everything stopped looking familiar.

Could my car have been towed? Stolen? I must have forgotten the name of the street I parked on. It was a rookie tourist mistake. I thought I was a better traveler than that. At this point, I sat down on bench by a statue and thought about crying. For the record, I only THOUGHT about crying. I didn’t actually cry. However, I was very frustrated. It was eye-watering frustration.

Then, it came to me. I was driving back to the hotel. The GPS on my phone would be able to tell me the way home. It was moment worthy of Sherlock Holmes, if the great detective was an idiot and lost his car.

I was sort of right. The way back was, indeed, Massachusetts NW. However, the street on the opposite side of the roundabout was also Massachusetts NW. I had assumed that the roundabout divided the street, northwest and southwest. No. It was Massachusetts NW for miles, through several different circles. I literally took a roundabout way to get to my car.

I was 12 blocks away from my car, six to the roundabout and six after it. My blistered feet weren’t happy, but I was. Finally, my salvation lay before me, in the form of a battered Honda. It was a sight for sore feet. For the record, my eyes were fine.