Without a map

I tend to anthropomorphize places, and Seattle struck me as a big, friendly, huggy person right away. I was so comfortable here during my first visit, I made tracks all over the city like that football-headed Family Circus kid on one of his loopty adventures around the block.

Now that I've moved here for good, the city seems easy to navigate: it is arranged on a grid of numbered streets with directional suffixes that probably requires a decoder ring-like device to master entirely (I am sure the DMV issues these with new car registrations). For now, since I am displaying the out-of-state plates, native drivers have been mightily patient with me, like an odd visiting cousin who always comes bearing lemon bars and a dreamcatcher for hostess gifts.

Yesterday, I accidentally left my handy CityGuide map on the kitchen table and drove to the store. And wouldn't you know it: Seattle's I-5 freeway punk'd me! The on-ramp was not where the off-ramp had been, or even in the same neighborhood, as far as I could tell.

I eventually made it home (you can't hide an entire expressway from me for long!). If all else fails: just head for the Space Needle. It's like hitting Ctrl-Alt-Delete on any given outing.

Besides, how can I stay mad a place like this? Ginormous traffic cones are considered public art!