Columns 2007

My summer adventure

If I was still a school kid, I suppose this column would be entitled, “My Summer Vacation Adventure.” Since I’m not, it might end up being titled, “Why Elise’s Friends Remain Stunned By The Fact That She Has Managed To Grow This Old Without Accidentally Killing Herself.”

It all began quite innocently. I was invited to a friend’s house for dinner.  She and her husband live about four miles away, a straight shot down C Street. Since a nice path is available, I decided to walk there. Because this was going to be such a simple task, I didn’t take much with me, just house keys and tissue. However, because I have had problems in the past with low blood sugar, I thought it prudent to have a little bit to eat before setting out.  It was the last intelligent thing I did that night.

There comes a point in the walk where the path goes down as the street goes up.  Ultimately the path leads to the Chester Creek Trail.  I got to the bottom of the path and had to choose between left and right turns. Right seemed to head straight into their subdivision. Left seemed to head away from it.  So I turned right.

Now I have this habit when I walk of daydreaming.  Sometimes I can get so involved in the daydream that I’m scarcely aware of my surroundings.  The trail I was on was conducive to just such intense daydreams. There was water on my right, woods all around and a total absence of anything that would have indicated I was actually in the middle of a city. The path was filled with people on bikes, walking dogs, pushing strollers, and couples sauntering hand in hand. I completely lost track of time and place.

I finally shook myself out of my daydream (this month it involves Nathan Fillion and the crew of Serenity) and looked at my watch.  It occurred to me that I’d been walking for over 90 minutes. Even at my leisurely pace, I should have already seen some turn off that allowed me to leave the path and enter the subdivision. I stopped people and asked if there was a subdivision nearby. They all assured me I was on the right track. In fact, they assured me, just a little ahead was a lake and parking lot near Old Seward and Dowling and there were all kinds of subdivisions there.

It occurred to me then that I might have taken a wrong turn somewhere. I was now over an hour late for dinner and my friends had probably already called the police to look for a woman in insulin shock in the bushes along C Street. But they’d never find me because, lo and behold, I’d somehow managed to get to Old Seward and Dowling.

The path seemed to turn back on itself at the parking lot so I decided to follow it again.  I don’t know why but at that moment, it seemed a good idea. I eventually found an opening off the path that came out at a subdivision. It did not take long for me to realize it was not the one I was looking for. So I stopped at someone’s garage and admitted my total incompetence in urban trekking.  The two gentlemen there were very kind. They didn’t even laugh when I admitted I couldn’t dial my friends on my cell phone because I didn’t own one and I couldn’t use their cell phone because I didn’t know how. They dialed for me.

I eventually ended up walking to Eddie’s Sports Bar, a landmark everyone but me seems to know. My friends picked me up there and did their best not to laugh hysterically at my tale. Mostly, they were just relieved I wasn’t unconscious and in need of an ambulance.

I would be lying if I didn’t admit that the story of the missing nurse ran through my mind more than once as I approached strangers for help on my adventure.  I hated that.  This is Anchorage. It shouldn’t even be a consideration in my mind.  And as it turned out, it didn’t have to be. People could not have been nicer, from the man who hunkered down in the dirt and drew a map for me despite his companion pointing out a map on a post a few feet away, to those lovely men in the garage who pointed me towards Eddie’s Sports Bar without any comments on how far I actually was from C Street.

Anchorage is still a good town to have a summer adventure in.  Not that people are apt to let me have another one again in the foreseeable future. But still, it’s nice to know that the town I call home continues to be mostly filled with gentle, kind people who take time to stop and help a stranger.