Dunkin' Donuts...ahh, New England!
My parents came into town last week for my mom's birthday, and I decided that this would be a fabulous chance to show them around my new neighborhood. My father and I share an, um, appreciation for decent coffee--lucky for me, I've moved into a part of the world where others do as well--so I offered to drive him to a Dunkin' Donuts for a Saturday morning coffee run. I promised him it was only about 5 minutes up the road.
Have you heard the one about asking for directions in New England? You ask some guy on the street and he goes, "Yo, whacha gotta do es go ova da bridge, pass da dunkin donuts, yo no, da one whea da guy in da flannal es...den you go pass da old fia station, pass anoda dunkin' donuts, and den make a lef." (I mean no disrespect to New Englanders. In Oklahoma it would go something like, "Sho, ma'am. Yah need tuh tuhn at dah end a da fiel' whea da ol' silo broke down, pass da baptis church on da coh-nah an make a raht at da wahllee wuhld." --That's Wal-Mart for those not from the South.)
Anyway, my Dad and I load into my car and we head out. "It's just up this way!" I inform him exuberantly. (This is, after all, one of my first trips out without either my aunt or her roommate directing me.) Oh, a side note...in Oklahoma the roads are laid out on a grid: they're at 1-mile increments and they cross at right angles.
So we head blithely along for a while and I see a sign and an arrow toward "Stonington." "That's great!" I point out. "I KNOW it's toward Stonington. We're going the right way!" Dad looks at me somewhat quizzically and asks, "You HAVE been here before, right?" I hesitate and then respond, "Well, I've been this way before. Yeah."
We drive along for a while, following the signs toward "Stonington" and I begin to make small talk. "That's a great old wall on the right, huh, Dad? Covered with snow? I just love finding stuff like that. And see that house over there? Beautiful!" He, ever the Southern gentleman, humors me, although by this time I'm SURE he knows... "Oh, yes. And all those trees. Very pretty!"
At some point along this jaunt, I realize that I've definitely never been this way, even though I KNOW the Dunkin' Donuts is in Stonington. Oh, well...never fear! It's just on the OTHER side of Stonington...so I decide to drive THROUGH Stonington to the Dunkin' Donuts. Sure.
And then I come to a lovely little historic-y district next to a pretty little bay (or perhaps lake...not sure). And lo and behold-a coffee shop! "Hey, Dad! Let's just stop here and get some coffee. Whaddya say?" I ask hopefully. "Well...I'd actually really wanted to get Dunkin' Donuts...let's just keep going until we find it. How about if we ask that guy?" He points to a guy walking a dog LEAVING this coffee shop, holding a latte, which at this point I might've paid HIM for.
"Excuse me, sir? I was wondering if you could help me find Route 2?" The guy kindly stops and says, "Wel, whacha gotta do es, tun aroun hea, go da odda way until it tuns into a one-way. Den you gotta hang a lef an go pas da ol fia station an pas da railroad-cuz da only wa outta Stonintun is da way yous came in." I gulp. "And that'll get me back to Route 2??" He pauses, sips his coffee. "Whea's Route 2? Thad'll getcha back to Route 1."
Thanks.
So we go back out the way we came, and head all the way back home. Sans coffee. When we get almost back to the house, I decide to take one more shot at it. I go the opposite direction out of the street and realize, again, that I've gone the wrong way, but THIS time it's REALLY familiar. "I know! This is Route 2!! We just have to turn around here, and go through the rotary, and we're there!" Dad smiles kindly. It's been 35 or so minutes since we left the first time.
I turn around, and come back around the corner to see (drum roll please)
a catholic school mass exiting across the street.
That's right. An entire school, complete with nuns, was emptying out of a church and crossing the street to the school. Older kids holding the hands of squirmy elementary schoolers, everyone in either a sweater and tie or knee-highs and plaid skirts. Church bells pealing merrily away.
Good grief.
However, after the ENTIRE school made it across the street, Dad and I continued on our quest, found the rotary, found the blessed pink and orange sign and were able to go inside to claim our long-awaited holy grail: Dunkin' Donuts coffee.
I guess the point of this post is twofold. One: Never trust signs in New England, because there are probably multiple versions of the townships listed. "Stonington" on the sign was actually "Old Stonington," and the Dunkin' Donuts was in "North Stonington" anyway. And two: sometimes what you were looking for all along really WAS just "five minutes" away-- you just made a wrong turn out of the house and took a 45 minute detour.
That's life.
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