LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION

As we landed in Los Angles the sun was shining and the airline had not lost my luggage, overall a good flight. Now all I had to do was get the rental car and I'd be on my way.

I had given speeches in the LA area before and felt reasonably comfortable finding my way around. This was pre-GPS so I just had a map of the area with my destination clearly marked by my client with bright yellow magic marker. There should be no problem finding the place. Getting lost when I have a time commitment tends to release my stress juices. Not needing that particular adrenaline rush, I thought I'd verify my driving plan with the desk agent at the rental car counter.

"Can you exit the 105 at Western?" I asked in my best guy-asking- directions tone. "I dounno," came the reply from the most recent Dale Carneige drop out. "Ask the guy down where you pick up your car," he mumbled. I guess if you "dounno", you "dounno", so I slupped my bags to the rental car pick-up.

"Can you exit the 105 at Western?" I tried again in my best annoyed-guy-asking-direction tone. This guy was much more helpful. I think so," he said. Well I thought so too, and within my world two "thinks" equal a "know," so I went for it.

Wrong.

After driving longer on the 105 than I thought I should (I started seeing signs for Pittsburgh), I pulled off the highway and parked on an unfamiliar side street to get my bearings.

I figured with my trusty, handy-dandy map my "bearing getting" should be a snap. I pulled out the map with the designation brightly highlighted and sat there staring. It was then I learned another of life's bountiful lessons.


Lesson:  Knowing where you're going is useless if you don't know where you are.