When one’s compass goes out of sync

Someone asked me for directions the other day. I knew the destination and its exact location, but the problem lay with directing my friend from Sharjah.

The place in question is walking distance from where I stay, so I should have been able to connect the dots for him.

When I was approached, I was confident of getting him from point A to point B without mishap. But when I started drawing a mental map, I was assailed by doubts. Should he take Maktoum Bridge or drive through Garhoud? There were several possibilities and as I considered the routes that could be taken, I began to get confused. Horrible images of my friend driving round in circles began to haunt me.

If I had already reached this stage, what hope did he have of ever getting to wherever he wanted to go? That’s when I passed the buck. I directed him to another person who I thought would do a better job. As the baton changed hands and the look on the inquirer’s face remained puzzled, I realised what was wrong. The man given charge was assuming that certain roads and landmarks were familiar to the newcomer.

But this is not true. If you don’t live in the emirate, the shop being named as a stand-out feature probably means nothing to the person being instructed. So, you must make no assumptions.

By the time the second traffic director had outlined what he thought was the best route, the glassy look in the eyes of the one being given road lessons was understandable.

Eventually, for fear of being thought a moron who couldn’t even follow simple directions, the person being instructed nodded his head vigorously and said he’d got it. But I was sure his confidence was misplaced. However, the next day he proudly informed me that he’d found the place with no difficulty.

I am constantly amazed by the confidence that exudes from the male species. That’s why you find so many cars on the roads — all those men driving to a destination they’re not sure of, but too proud to stop and ask for directions. So now you know the reason for the traffic congestion.

There was a time when I sat behind the wheel and drove myself. But I made sure I knew exactly where I was going, which roads to take and how many left and right turns the journey entailed. Of course, this determination to be absolutely sure of where I was going and how to get there meant no deviations. So, if I had to go to some place I was not familiar with, I’d hop into a taxi and let someone else take over.

Eventually, I found my monthly expenditure was shooting up and I couldn’t figure out why. Research on the subject, however, revealed that I was spending almost as much on cabs as I was on fuel for the car. That’s when I decided I would rather spend on cabs and be sure of reaching my destination without being driven round the bend.

I have never regretted this life-changing decision. When others come to work late, not in the best of moods after being stuck in a traffic jam, I smile to myself and thank my stars that I switched from being in the driver’s seat to taking a back seat. It’s not that you can’t get caught in traffic if you’re in a taxi. Of course you can. But the blood pressure doesn’t shoot up as much.

I am also aware that there’s always the possibility that when I reach my destination and read the meter, I might get a heart attack. But I’m willing to take that risk.