Dear Urban Planners of Elkhart, I hate you

I almost never get lost. Truly, I was blessed with an above-average sense of direction and actually shred the stereotype of the girl who doesn't know where north is and can't read a map. However, last night's attempt at a nice, romantic date to a wonderful Italian restaurant was a complete fiasco due to the completely asinine naming of roads in my neck of the woods.

First, imagine me all foxified in this glorious new dress: curve hugging, slimming, red and black satin. Heels are on, hair done. Local Boy is sacrificing his sleep and health to take me out after an 8-hour masters class and a week of the flu. I should have suspected things would not go well when LB mentioned that he never drives to Elkhart because it's just too confusing, even though he's lived here most of his life. I write him off, knowing he has no sense of direction and having faith in my navigational abilities. After all, I'd been to this restaurant twice before, albeit months ago, and had double-checked the map before heading out to confirm the location.

My directions were clear: we basically just had to take 20. What I did not foresee was that there are FOUR roads all named 20 that run east-west within two miles of one another: county road 20, the bypass 20, business route 20, and 120. We drove for an hour and a half and never found the 20 we wanted (I think BR20). By this time, it was already 9:30 and even if we had found the mythical route to the restaurant, it would likely be near closing time. So, we headed back to our own town and went to one of the generic chain restaurants. The food was fine, and the service is superior when you're one of the last customers in the place, but it wasn't what I had envisioned when I donned the red dress.

What I did learn, however, was perhaps worth the effort. Even though we were starving, sick, tired, and lost, we had a good time in that hour and a half. There were none of the irritated, bitter silences or accusations (well, maybe a few good-humored ones) that usually accompany such situations. It ended up not mattering at all where we were, since we were in good company.