You CAN get lost in Durhamville, New York

Well, it turns out, at least I can. When I tell people this, they just sort of look at me then ask, “How do you get lost in Durhamville?”

I decided recently I needed something to fill my many idle hours, and I thought a little extra cash would be useful, as well.

Try going to a prospective employer and telling them you’re available the second Tuesday of the sixth week of the month under a blue moon and watch his or her expression. I did think of something that might work, though, so I started asking around and found a new boss.

I know it sounds crazy, but I have wanted to drive cab since before I was old enough to drive. I couldn’t wait to get my license and some experience under my belt so I could try my hand at the job. Then my husband said “no” because it was dangerous.

As I now tell my fares, I’m old and cranky, and I don’t care what he says.

Someone who is a tireless driver and who enjoys meeting people, it is the perfect job. I’m only sorry I didn’t do is sooner. As I recently told some friends, it’s the most fun you can have with your clothes on.

Except a couple weeks ago I got lost in Durhamville … which is something akin to getting lost in a one-room schoolhouse, only more embarrassing.

I got to Durhamville OK, but I could not find the Vet’s Club. I found a building with a lot of flags and thought FOR SURE that was it, but when I pulled into the driveway, I discovered it was a private home.

Now, my biggest fears about this new job were 1) metered rides when I don’t know where I’m going; 2) that my new bosses would go back to my references and tell them I am developmentally delayed; and 3) embarrassing myself on the radio.

1. The company uses flat fares.

2. Status unknown, but I’ve got my suspicions.

3. Mission accomplished … and then some.

I got on the radio and asked for directions. Several voices came back with different directions, but pretty soon I was on my way. To Verona. I drove back to Ryan’s General Store, which has been fondly dubbed “the Durhamville Mall,” and radioed base again.

“I didn’t know Durhamville had a mall,” the boss radioed back when I told her where I was. Then she got me where I needed to go.

Cool, calm and collected, Boss No. 2 gets on the radio.

“Martha? Which street did you get lost on?”

As I try to remember, he comes back on.

“The first one, or the second one?”

“If this guy calls back wondering where I am, just tell him I’m new and I’m from a work-release program for the challenged,” I radioed back.

I could hear some laughter in the background, and my face was hot, even under the cover of night.

I find the fare, who is – thank God – occupied on his cell phone. I ask him where he’s heading and get moving. Then it occurs to me I don’t know how much to charge him. I pick up the radio.

“If y’all have picked yourself up off the floor from laughing at me, could someone tell me how much the fare is?”

“You haven’t done anything anyone else didn’t do when they were new,” the boss announced over the radio. “But, yeah, we’re laughing at you.”

And that’s when I passed his road … with a long line of traffic behind me … and nowhere safe to turn around. The blush creeps down to my toes, and I start laughing. I tell the dispatcher what I’ve done, and everyone starts laughing. I say a little prayer of thanks to the god of atheists that this guy is still on his phone and a second one that we don’t have meters in the cars.

A few doors from his destination, he hangs up his phone.

“So … taking the scenic route?” he asks good-naturedly.

I’m pretty sure my face was glowing like Rudolph’s nose at this point. I take his money and tell the dispatcher I’m clear.

“You’re clear,” she returns.

“That’s good,” I replied. “I’m gonna go eat some popcorn … I hear it’s brain food.”

The dispatcher is cracking up. As I pull out onto the street, I flip over the bag of popcorn.

SmartFood Brand.

I nearly died.

I was laughing so hard, tears were running down my face as I called this updated information into dispatch.

When I rendezvoused later with one of the other drivers, he took one look at me and started cracking up.

“I know,” I said, laughing. “I can’t believe I got lost in Durhamville … you know, population 52?”
“Oh,” he said. “They had visitors?”

I started laughing all over again.

“When you got on the radio and said you were eating SmartFood, I was dying to get on there and say, ‘Well, what’re you doing? Eating the DumbFood they keep at the bottom of the bag?’ But it seemed a little mean.”

Reprinted courtesy Eagle Newspapers, Syracuse, New York.