Labyrinth

Either to relieve the monotony, or out of sadistic pleasure, the developers here have seen fit to design their enclaves to resemble laboratory mazes. Streets zig. They zag. They form lazy S's, they circle back on each other and half of them dead end into cul-de-sacs. For added fun, some streets even change names mid-curve. Once you're here, it's going to take cunning and skill to find a way out. Which is pretty much how I feel about Bakersfield as a whole. On Google maps it's actually quite pretty, like a Celtic knot or the filigree work you find on currency. I'd had to consult the map to try and figure out a route to walk the dogs. Originally I'd just head out the door, thinking this town was laid out like others, with some sort of grid to it. No such luck. I'd become so intimidated by the maze that I'd resorted to walking the dogs to the end of the street and back, and now the dogs were bored.

So I found a route that looped from the house, and that's been our reliable trek every morning.

Until this morning. We walked out the door, and there across the street was a kindly looking elderly woman. Let's call her Gladys. She was walking one of those genetically altered/ hybrid dogs, the tiny ones whose name usually ends with "poo". As sometimes happens, my dogs and hers took an immediate dislike to one another from a distance, barking and snarling across the street. Gladys was already headed in the direction we normally go, so to keep the peace I decided we'd just do our route backwards. So off we went, down the street in the opposite direction. We turned the corner, went up a bit, made a right.

And there was Gladys.

Huh? She had been going in the other direction. And I didn't remember a street on the map connecting our current location to where I imagined she should be by now. No matter. Odd coincidence. But with the dogs barking again, we changed course and headed away from them. Left. Right. Right again. I was now off our course, but pretty sure I knew where we were. Left again. Right.

And there was Gladys.

Gladys knows something I don't. Secret passages, back alleys, something. We headed away from them again. Left. Right. Left. Oops, dead end, double back. Left. Right. Right again. I'm now thoroughly lost and starting to get a little panicked. The houses all look the same and there are no landmarks. I haven't a clue where we are and have no idea how to get home. We turn another corner...

And there was Gladys. I'm beginning to think Gladys isn't so kindly. That she's doing this on purpose. That she's malicious. But then it occurs to me that Gladys is actually ahead of us now, by about half a block. And Gladys knows where she is going. Gladys can lead us home. I need Gladys. It's a calculated risk. Most dog walkers seem to have a somewhat circular route, and since we first encountered her on our street, there a better than even chance she'll end up somewhere nearby, someplace I recognize. So we follow them. Left. Right. Right. Left. Now Gladys is checking over her shoulder. She must think I'm stalking her. I don't care. I want to go home. After a few more twists and turns, we're finally on a street I know, not far from our house. And then Gladys suddenly makes a turn up a driveway and scurries into her house, slamming the door behind her. She's probably calling the cops on me.

We finally make it home and the cops never arrive. And I vow never to leave the house without my phone, because it has GPS.