On the seat beside me I had the very, very detailed instructions the organizer had sent me.
I got off the freeway at 257th and followed the directions. She had guaranteed they were faster than what Mapquest would recommend.
At one point, I was supposed to make a right and then a quick left. There was traffic all around me, so there wasn't much time to contemplate how I hadn't seen the Shell station that was also mentioned. But I did see a sign saying Hwy. 26, and I knew that was where I wanted to be. All was well.
Only the street numbers started going down. I kind of wondered at that. But I was still sure I was heading in the right direction.
Until I ended up on 82nd Avenue. Yes, Portland's 82nd Avenue. I had driven 175 blocks in the wrong direction. And now I had to drive them all over again, plus another ten or so miles.
But I made it in time (but with no time to write, as I had hoped). The organizer had offered to provide me with lunch. I thought it might be at the local Dairy Queen. Instead, I was whisked away to an amazing home that I at first thought was some kind of upscale lodge. The native American artifacts were museum-quality. It turned out to have once belonged to The Bionic Woman, Lindsay Wagner.
My dining companions included the mayor, the owners of the home (who had a last name the same as one of Portland's major streets), and various other personages.
Then it was off to the library to speak. A good crowd.
And then I got lost driving home. But not as lost.