The sun sets in the east

 

Been getting used to a new neighborhood in recent months. Part of that has involved getting directions from a few folks that I’m not used to receiving directions from. It’s been a learning experience.

Out on the road several weeks ago, I asked a friend whether I needed to turn up ahead. Her response?

Head north.”

North?

North?

What? North?

I had asked a question with three acceptable responses. Right, left, or continue straight. Not one of them nor anything along the road—and she agrees with this, because I deliberately and specifically asked her—had any visible labels that said north.

As we discussed it, her defense was that I should know the direction I’m moving. Saving you the back and forth, I’ll say that I earned a very reluctantly begrudgingly awarded victory in the argument by asking her what direction she preferred driving on the designated north and south of Interstate 95 in Connecticut. (Which despite being labeled as north and south to remain consistent with the full run along the coast of the United States, actually runs east and west for arguably the entirety of its roughly 112 miles in the state.)

Now, I said I won the debate from her in “reluctantly begrudgingly” fashion. It remained such a victory until about two weeks ago, on a recent trip. A trip where we were trying to head south, using a road that had us moving along its south-bound lanes, and the setting sun was spending a ridiculous amount of time directly in front of us. And, when it wasn’t in front of us, it was joyfully swaying equally off to the right and off to the left of the road.

Now, obviously, the culprit of an explanation in this story is the curving of the highway. Slight bend here. Slight bend there. The setting sun completes a run from the window on one side across the windshield to position itself in the window on the opposite side, though you are still officially driving the road headed south.

Despite the title, however, I’m not here to discuss when west becomes east with you.

I’m here to discuss oddities of the road.

And I’m here to discuss it because of the paper towels in restrooms.

(Sort of.)

Road trip. Pulled into a rest area, with the intention of using the facilities and maybe getting a coffee or snack for myself and the others in the car. In the restroom, there were no paper towels, just air dryers. All around the dryers, things were a wet mess. And that wet mess part should be capitalized and italicized, and probably bold the font as well. (You could have gone puddle stomping near the air dryer. (And while I love the occasional runabout outside to puddle stomp, I would not advise it in these conditions at all.))

As I made my way into the main area of the rest stop, gazing around for napkin dispensers, it occurred to me that I was essentially going to use the paper towels that had been removed from the restroom. Not literally. But substitute paper napkins to dry hands for paper towels to dry hands and we arrive in a similar position.

What set me over the top was a urinal in the row of urinals.

It had been running.

A constant state of the flushing process. Was running before I walked in. Was running after I walked out. Efficiently wasting water.

It’s odd to me that the same groups that think they’re saving money by not stocking paper towels would find themselves (or other rest area occupants) losing it on paper napkins used as an alternative. The air dryer to be kind to the environment is a useless disarray, just a few feet from the urinal that is decidedly unkind to the environment.

We had been driving all night as we left the rest area. I had some time with my thoughts, trying to make sense out of something far from common, as the sun rose off to the west.

 

If you have any comments or questions, please e-mail me at Bob@inmybackpack.com