GPS was made specifically for me.

I occasionally do freelance work for a doctorb in Chestnut Hill. On my way home, I’ll often head a few minutes out of the way in order to get a burrito from Boloco. It only sets me back about 20 minutes, and it’s the closest thing there is to enjoying the giant, delicious burrito’s from the Black Bean, in Flagstaff, AZ. Justin enjoys these wonderful burritos as well.

Recently, Justin scored the both of us several coupons for Boloco, each granting us a burrito for a buck. He did this by somehow finding a way to digitize our love-seed and eMailing it to the president of the company, and this was their thanks in return.

So last night, I drove to Chestnut Hill to drop something off for the aforementioned doctorb and since Justin was working his second all-nighter in a row just 20 minutes away, I offered to drop off a burrito. I printed up directions to get from Boloco to his work, and everything was going fine, that is, until I realized that the highway I was on wasn’t the highway I thought it was.

I called him to see if he had any clue where I was, and it was apparently way off base. When I got off the highway I ended up in Chelsea and using the power of google maps and cellular telecommunication technologies, he attempted to guide me from there.

Chelsea, however, is a shitty damn town where left is right and up is down and the number system is grossly out of whack. Following Justin’s directions, streets were not where streets should have been. I circled around several times to find the correct street in their windy, confusing maze of one-way streets. At one point, I turned on to what appeared to be the main one-way street (Broadway), though at this point it was no longer one-way, as cars were coming towards me. When an unmarked police car flashed me, it occurred to me that the direction of this street had changed. I later found that despite driving alongside broadway prior to this turn, this was an entirely new street that had come out of nowhere.

Once I was back on track again, there was a rotary in which the exit I wanted had only a small street sign posted, right by the entrance to the rotary for that street. After circling around several times to determine which fucking street was the correct one, it was mostly cream cheese from there.

I finally got to Justin’s work, gave him his cold burritos, printed directions to get me to a known location (Bowling Alley) and left shortly after. It’s a very good thing I didn’t stay much longer than I had, because I left my headlights on in the bitter cold. My car struggled to start the engine.

Because I’m a great fool, I took the exit for 95 North, nearly ending up in New Hampshire before I realized I was going the wrong way and turned around. I drove nearly 80 miles and used a quarter tank of gas in all of this.

I am officially saving up for a GPS device now. I’m thinking I can probably save up for the Garmin GPSMAP 60CSx, which will offer a nice mix between driving assistance and geocaching abilities, in approximately 7 years.