Adventures of a Bone Head

For anyone who really knows me you understand that I am not kidding when I say that I am a bone head. Here is an example...

I was in a wedding in Atlanta last weekend. I have an old fraternity brother who lives outside of Atlanta so I was staying at his house. When I got finished with all of the wedding stuff on Friday night it was a little after midnight. I called my friend and he said he was up watching TV - so when I got there I should just come on in. My friend lives in Cumming, Georgia - The Gateway to Leisure Living, which is a little over an hour from downtown Atlanta. So my estimated arrival is after 1 am. I have never been to his house before, but fortunately I have Bianca in my car. Bianca (penned by Leif & Margaret) is the name of the Hertz Never Lost Navigation System that came with my rental car. I love Bianca. She is really good at what she does. So Bianca is giving me turn by turn directions as I make my drive to The Gateway to Leisure Living. I have to tell you that I am really glad that Bianca is with me, because it is really dark in Cumming. I don't think the town has any street lights. This is beginning to concern me because when I told some of the groomsmen at the wedding that I was staying in Cumming, I got some odd facial expressions back at me. One of them even said, “I hope you brought a shot gun.” I have no idea what that meant, and I didn’t explore the comment any further. Now I wish I had.

But Bianca is on her game as she weaves me through about 8 turns in less than a mile and finally declares, “you have arrived at your final destination.” As I approach the door I am glad to see the TV on and an undistinguishable figure watching it. I definitely don't want to find my room in a house I have never been to all by myself at 1 am. So I pull the door handle, as instructed, but the door is locked. Almost simultaneous to my attempt to open the door, I see the undistinguishable figure distinguish herself. And she doesn't look happy. And she doesn't look like my friend. Or his wife. Or his four year old daughter. I don't know who this women is? She scurries frantically at the door with a sense of purpose. Why is she coming to the door? She doesn’t know me - shouldn't she be scared of me? I am quite an imposing figure to those who don’t know what a friendly person I am. But she is coming quick. She opens the door and says, “You are at the wrong house aren’t you?” I stammered through some words and eventually asked her if she knew my friend. She did – he lived two doors down. I guess it would have been a good idea for me to look at the address, clearly labeled on the mailbox, before entering an unknown home at 1 am – even in the Gateway to Leisure Living.

I am a bone head.