Highway Thunderstorms

Yesterday I managed to start my day by getting thoroughly lost in Atlanta (which is an incredibly beautiful city. It’s so green. It’s wonderful.). I was dropping off my travelling companion at her mother-in-law’s house, and she lived at an address that did not exist on the street where she lived. Curse you time-space continuum for screwing up the fabric of reality! It’s so annoying when places that clearly *do* exist evidently don’t. Grrr.

I finished my day with more trouble finding places that disappear into parallel realities. Illinois Interstate 255 is an completely nonsensical, impossible beast. In the U.S., if a highway is labelled with an odd number (like, 1, or 47, or 255) that highway travels on a North/South pathway. If the highway is an even number (10, 90, 66), it runs East/West.

With the exception of 255, which seems to run *all* directions. My original destination was Edwardsville, Illinois. I took 255 N, and I was supposed to get off at exit 3. I was on 255, and I got off at exit 3, and I found myself in the city of East St.Louis – which is definitely *not* Edwardsville. I got back on to 255, and figured that I would just go South (as clearly I had missed my exit somewhere), and I would be able to take exit 3, and magically be where I was supposed to be.

This logic was not sound.

I took 255 South, to exit 3, and I found myself and the Jefferson Barraks in Missouri. Being officially in the wrong state, I called for help and got walked back in to Edwardsville. (It turns out that the numbering system on 255 magically changes for no apparent reason after you hit a certain point, so there are multiple freaking “exit 3″‘s. That’s really helpful folks. Oh wait, NO IT’S NOT. >.<)

 

The good news was that I did reach my destination safely, and that I got to drive through a Midwest thunderstorm. I’d forgotten how much I love those. I’d gotten to drive towards this storm for about 4 hours, watching the  lightening as it ladders across the horizon. I’m pretty sure at one point lightening struck a bridge about 15 feet in front of my car. I could taste the electricity as I drove over the spot. (A little bit disappointing in the way that I can’t cross “getting struck by lightening” off my bucket-list, but intellectually I am aware that “getting struck by lightening”  does have a reasonable probability of of ending any chance of pursuing my bucket list by instead facilitating my kicking of the bucket.)  It was amazing.

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