I went to the park the other day to read, and much to my surprise, a nice elderly couple accosted me to get directions to the restroom. This struck me because (1) it was my first time at this park, and (2) I took it as a compliment that I fit in and would clearly be knowledgeable about such important locations like bathrooms.
They were really nice and sweet. They had a tendency to call me "my girl," and they joked about their great need to go to the restroom as if we were old friends. The Southern customer service part of me clung onto this conversation, charmed by their easiness.
The lady was the more loquacious, of course. Her outfit said so too: big leopard print coat, large tinted reading glasses, and strong perfume. She repeated the directions as I gave them, adding some joke about having to walk far just to go to the restroom, my girl.
Vaguely, I saw one when I entered, and I pointed in the general direction, past the skate boarders and near the parking lot, and the lady thanked me on her slow trudge up the hill.
Later on, I wondered if I gave proper directions at all, I mean, I mostly just waved my hand in the general direction and even then, I guessed it was there, so, not wanting to run into them on their way back down, I moved benches on a different part of the path and went back to reading.
As life would have it, they found me.
"Thank you, my girl," I heard suddenly, and looked up to see the elderly lady smiling at me in her leopard print coat and big eye glasses. She came over to pat me on the shoulder, and lucky for me, I apparently gave them the proper area.
"We found it," she replied, standing near me. I saw her husband had kept a few feet away, even made a few steps away every so often. If they thought it was weird that I moved, they didn't say anything. Instead, she thanked me, and the gentleman told me to have a nice day.
I think I'm getting the hang of my sense of direction. Though, just writing that might be a jinx for the future. I'll just have to risk it.