theorangeinkblot

Looking at life through orange colored glasses…

My super hero alter ego is an On-Star agent

My husband is an all around great guy. He is a great partner and father; he is hard working, smart, funny, and successful. His accomplishments include completing a marathon, earning a black belt in karate, and putting up with my crazy family for the past thirteen years. Yet, despite all these attributes, he is desperately lacking in one area (no, not that area!!).

You’ve heard the expression “he couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag?” That expression could have been written for my hubby. After living twelve years in the DC metro area, he still doesn’t know the difference between the inner and outer loops of the DC beltway. He still asks, every single time, if he needs to go East or West on Route 66 when we visit my parents. This affliction appears to be genetic. The running joke around here is that the reason the Jews wandered in the desert for forty years is because one of my husband’s ancestors had the map.

My husband gets lost every time he travels for business. Detroit, Orlando, San Francisco, whichever the city, when my husband exits the airport, he may as well have arrived on another planet. Regardless of how near he is to his destination, or how good his directions, he can never get “there” from “here.”

Lucky for my husband, my super hero alter ego is an On-Star agent. Like Clark Kent’s Superman, my alter ego is ready at all times to answer the call of disorientation. Along with my trusty side kick, Google Maps, I can pinpoint my husband’s exact location and guide him safely, and efficiently to his destination. And like the real On Star service, I provide turn by turn directions, and can even find him a florist to send me flowers as payment.

You are probably thinking, “just get the man a GPS already.” Several years ago, I did just that- stupidly thinking that this would solve the problem. It hasn’t. Since my husband always thinks he knows where he is going, he rarely has it plugged in or programmed to his destination. Lately, our GPS seems to have developed dementia, sending my poor husband circling in a loop of ‘legal u-turns’ as if he were suddenly taken over by the spirit of Clark Griswold (look kids, Big Ben!).

Like most superheros, I wish for a day where my super power is no longer needed. But until disorientation no longer exists in my husband’s head, it’s nice to be needed.

By the way, my husband has a super hero alter ego of his own. I call him, ‘he who can jimmy rig anything’ along with his side kick duct tape. But that is a story for another blog entry…

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