A little over a week ago, I did something – unintentionally – that I truly wish I could undo, and for which I’m very sorry. I was taking my morning walk with the over-energetic Aussie-Saluki when a car pulled over, and a strange man with a delightful and precise English accent asked me for directions to the Catholic Church. I was glad to oblige, and promptly stated, “Just go to the end of the road; turn right, and it’s two blocks up.”
Simple enough.
Except… I’m one of those people who have no innate sense of left and right. I’m not directionally impaired in the sense of getting lost; I almost always know where I am, and have enough sense [acquired painfully from my wife] to ask directions when I don’t. I’m also very good at providing written directions to others. But when I’m caught off-guard as I was on that morning, with my thoughts more on other matters, from the plotting of the newest book to what a beautiful morning it was, I often speak before full consideration of my words.
The road used to end where I meant for him to turn, but it hasn’t for more than a year, since the city extended it a half-mile downhill through a winding canyon to meet up with the Cross Hollows Parkway. Instead, there’s only a stop sign there now. And… as a result of my left-right confusion, I told the English gentleman to turn right, rather than the correct direction, which was left.
But I didn’t. About twenty seconds after he drove off, I realized what I had done and started waving and running after the car, Aussie-Saluki delighted that we were running. Alas, he never looked back… and by the time I got home and went looking for him in the car… he was nowhere to be found. I just hope he found the right church.
Now… the other side of the story is… Equally inadvertently, the directions I had given him were precisely correct in taking him to the nearest LDS Stake [church], if almost three-quarters of a mile away, rather than the four blocks to the Catholic Church.
So… either way… I’m either regarded as a directional idiot, theologically challenged in not even knowing which church was which, or determined to steer the poor man away from his church of choice to another faith [even though I’m not a member of either faith].
As so many people have often probably said, I just wish I’d thought through what I’d said a little more carefully…. And because I never knew who he was, this is the only apology I can offer.
I can just hear the English driver’s eventual conversion story, “I was in some southern Utah town, trying to find the local diocese, when this nice older chap walking his dog accidentally gave me ‘bad’ directions. If only I could go back and fid that chap, and shake his hand, for his ‘bad’ directions changed the course of my entire life!”
Either that, or, “Bloody bastard thinks he can fool me into walking into a damned Mormon church, eh? I knew the wife and I should have vacationed in Nevada!”