Semi-Rad just wrote this funny little piece delineating the various kinds of direction-givers:
That prompted me to respond in this way:
I’m number 3 for sure. I can get anywhere, once I’ve been there one time (even years later), but can’t describe how I did it for beans. I like to say, I “feel” my way, one visual memory triggering the next.
Once, when I was a teen in Massachusetts, some guy pulled up and asked for directions. I started attempting to describe the route (especially challenging in New England where what was once a cow path 400 years ago has gradually been updated by multiple committees over the years into something sorta, kinda resembling a superhighway). Anyway, before I could even finish, the guy just drove off without a word!
Now, you’ve got to remember that this was rough and tumble working class central Massachusetts. Many of the people you’d deal with bore a striking resemblance to the way characters carried themselves in Marty’s The Departed. So I was lucky I didn’t get a head punch!