seriously, I had two newly purchased nalgenes. surely, I didn't need both.

So, I'm not sure how most people deal with being lost, but I deal with it similar to the way I deal with other mistakes. For a mistake in painting, I use more paint. For a mistake in writing, I use more words. For a mistake in driving, I use more driving. Why stop and figure out where you are when you can continue to drive around and hope that the next turn is the right turn? Let's be fair:  my latest driving adventure was less about being lost and more about not knowing how to get where I wanted to go. I knew exactly where I was (I was in my car!) and where I wanted to be. "There!" I would shout and point to an elevated freeway, "I want to be on you! How do I get to be on you?"

It isn't that I don't apply logic to my driving with more driving. I am sure you can probably imagine me, driving underneath the freeway, shaking my fist at it, cursing the city of Oakland and then Berkeley and then back into Oakland.  I wasn't just driving aimlessly; I was driving with aim. My aim was up above me. I had my aim in sight the whole time, if it meant potentially missing stop signs or one way signs or other cars. Can I make a U-Turn here? Well, it does not specifically tell me that I cannot, so I certainly don't see a reason that I can't.

After several minutes of the previous plan, I decided to try a new one (No, it was not to stop and ask for directions or even to use the gps on my phone. Don't be ridiculous). I could easily find entrances to 880 North, so I figured, if I drove up north one exit, I could turn around at the next one.

Fool! Now you're just slowly making your way up north. Why on earth would they have a southbound entrance anywhere near a northbound exit? Don't be stupid. Near the northbound exit, there should clearly be lots of complicated residential streets, a liquor store and nothing. 

Plan #3 of following a cop car was also flawed, as apparently he was off to fight crime or get a cup of coffee or something, and not trying to drive back toward San Jose like I was.

Eventually I had driven enough of Oakland to recognize I was actually headed back to where I had started my entire adventure and would be given the opportunity to try again. Success!

Now, how did I get into this mess? I had driven there; driving back should be a simple case of retracing steps. And it was. My error was that I had exited the freeway to find a bathroom. Everywhere I have been, save the great state of California, has plenty of signs telling you where gas stations are and also have gas stations that are open with bathrooms. California has none of that. California has gas stations, often closed, often without bathrooms. California has signs telling you useless things like that litter pickup is sponsored by no one or that the speed limit is 55 MPH (no, California, I beg to differ). So, rather than calmly exiting to a gas station right off of the freeway, I instead found myself driving haphazardly through side streets at the sight of a Lucky sign. Grocery stores! They have bathrooms!

I had briefly considered relegating one my recently purchased Nalgene bottles as the emergency car toilet, but felt that I could not accomplish that task without disaster.

So, I was running into a Lucky, looking forlorn and desperate and was cut off by another man, and a locked door. Twice thwarted! Turns out, you need a key, which man ahead of me went to get. This is one of those situations where I desperately flip through my options:  wet pants, run outside and urinate in parking lot, or wet pants. So I waited. Man ahead of me was quite quick, and the day was saved.

After peeing for what felt like 26 years, I was back in the car. Whew, I had said to myself, the worst is over! No, unfortunately, I had to find how to get back onto the freeway.