My GPS told me where to go

My company has a very long tradition of annual meetings. You can have long traditions when you are three hundred and forty or so. Is it even worth counting anymore? Talk about outliving all you friends whew! I bet the Northwest Company has been to a lot of funerals. I wonder; is there really anything after “Old as the Hills”? We recently took back the original name of the meetings. “The Wintering Partners Conference.” The men and women who run our stores; scattered across four thousand kilometers of the Canadian north are a remarkable bunch. The conference is a logistical nightmare with Managers coming in from eight provinces and three territories on dozens of different airlines. Some take as long as three days to reach Gibraltar House our Winnipeg Headquarters. There are Managers of all ages and levels of experience. Many are old friends who see each other but once a year. It is a week of intense meetings, classes and a trade show. But these Norwesters as diverse as they are have one thing in common. They are coming to the big city from tiny, isolated, far flung communities with little or no amenities.
For most of the last decade I have shared a room with an old friend. We are noted for coloring outside the lines. We are also infamous for getting lost. We have; over the years become familiar with many different neighborhoods in Winnipeg. We have gotten lost there. Shane; who is a bit of a techy and loves his electronic toys. Proudly revealed his latest acquisition. “It’s a GPS.” He said proudly as he whipped it with a flourish from his parka pocket (it can be mighty cold in Winnipeg in February). “Check this out! Color screen, accurate to one meter, it even talks!” He said proudly, tilting it back and forth so I could see the color screen. “Great, now when we get lost we will know exactly where we are lost.” I said sarcastically. “Mock if you must, but this is a marvel of modern technology; listen!” He pressed a button and a woman with a pleasant sounding accent gave his street position. “Pretty Cool!” I had to admit. “Nah!” Shane replied “She isn’t cool, she is HOT!” He was holding the palm sized device over his head like it was the Stanley Cup or something. Shane had rented a car as he often did.
Now, a word about that. Being relatively new to the city we had experienced some “difficulties” in the past. Once, while walking we had gone to the theater to see a movie. In fairness to ourselves we were dog tired and had both dozed off during the movie, we were that tired. We had memorized the route to the theater while on the way. Unfortunately the theater is designed so that you enter on one street and then when the movie ends you are ushered out the side of the building on a different street. It was dark and we got turned around and ended up walking five kilometers out of our way, when we were exhausted. Usually Shane gets a car and a map. As he is driving he is forced to leave the navigating to me. Now I am no dummy, but I am blind. Well, legally blind anyways. Reading a map with a magnifying glass is somewhat more difficult than you might think. Try it sometime. We once found ourselves smack in the middle of Assiniboine Park. On another occasion we found a great shopping spot. It was; however five miles and ninety degrees out from where we set out for. We were definitely not living up to the tradition of our Coureur des bois predecessors. They could travels thousands of miles with little more than the stars and a pocket compass to guide them. We couldn’t get to the mall.
Those days were over now thanks to Shane’s latest gadget. We walked to the car rental lot and picked out the car. Shane proudly mounted the new device on the windshield. As we left the lot he programmed our first destination, the hotel only a few blocks away. In a sweet British accent the lady purred. “Turn left in two hundred meters.” Proceed along Notre Dame for 400 meters.” Shane was in his glory. “Now watch this!” he said with glee as he drove past the hotel. The GPS did not miss a beat. “Recalculating.” She replied. “Turn left in 75 meters.” Shane slapped the dash. “See, she is as quick as she is sexy.” We put the car in the lot and went inside. Our days of wandering the side roads of Winnipeg were over.
The next day we would put her through her paces. We had a number of errands to do. This is inevitable when you live in the middle of nowhere and you suddenly find yourself in the middle of somewhere, the middle of anywhere actually. There was banking to be done shopping, of course and the usual myriad of other things. We set off my high hopes and our invisible companion taking direction from over head satellites to guide our course. In our own way we were using the stars to navigate just like our Metis brothers two hundred years ago. Only in reverse, sort of as we would fill our twenty first century canoe with trade goods.
Now we had not been silent about our exploits. We had taken a lot of ribbing over the years on account of our wayward activities. We sat at the breakfast table Shane had his head in his hands. The Boss and a Vice President approached. The V.P. leaned on the table with both hands. He leaned in, anxious to hear of our latest exploits. “So how did yesterday go? Did you manage to stay out of trouble? Didn’t end up in Brandon?” Shane was rocking his head from side to side not his usual ebullient self. “Not hung over are you Shane?” The Veep inquired. I looked at Shane and realized he was too disconsolate to reply. “The people of Winnipeg tried to kill us yesterday!” I replied vehemently. The group recoiled slightly. “What on earth…?” The V.P. interjected. “I can explain.” I replied and I began the sorry tale of our fall from grace. We had of course fallen victim of our own Hubris. Pride goeth before the fall. Apparently it goeth after the shooting off of the big mouth too.
It had started out well. We were in high spirits. We had a new car, clean and shiny among the slush stained sedans that were stalled in traffic at Portage and Main. Shane took the GPS from his coat pocket. The prairie winter sun had set and the screen cast a glow on Shane’s face as he turned it on. “See this menu? I just choose shopping then select a store and presto, it tells us how to get there!” Shane was fairly beaming. “We are the gods of navigation!” he said cockily. He was reveling in his new found ability. “Marvelous, it is truly amazing what the mind of man hath wrought.” I added. “But shouldn’t we grab a bite first?” Shane raised a finger like Sherlock Holmes. “Just so, my good man!” His thumbs were flying on the touchpad. “Let’s see, restaurants. What do you feel like having?” He asked. “Nothing to frilly froo froo, just some good honest burgers.” I replied. We had not been in civilization for months so everything was new to us. “How about the fare at Ron McDonald’s? Let’s see if our British honey can use her nose to sniff out some Big Macs.” The screens scrolled and Shane worked out in his head which restaurants were closest. He programmed one in and the voice purred to life. We crossed the Red River on the bridge indicated and sure enough we could see the golden arches, tight where our English honey had said. We ate a most satisfactory repast and strutted to the car. We were the masters of all we surveyed, truly masters of the universe.
“Such is the folly of the overconfident.” I warned the assembled crowd. All were hanging on my every word. Shane still had hold of his head. “We next programmed our first shopping destination. We proceeded along one of the main thoroughfares. We were supremely confident. We had the magical box that would talk to the stars in silent binary code and would talk to us in the tones of some beautiful exotic creature. It was then the people of Winnipeg sprung their dastardly trap!” I struck the table with my fist for emphasis. My coffee cup sloshed and my spooned clattered on the arbourite. “Surely not!” The V.P. said adamantly. “Do not underestimate the people of this good city. They were but fulfilling their role in the revenge of the Gods for our Hubris and of course; play their role in the origin of the species. The survival of the fittest. For we should have foreseen the flaw in our armor. We had both read the manual for the cursed device. It was right there in black and white. As we drove the voice, calm, educated and seductive turn right in one hundred meters. Indeed a road appeared in the headlights although it seemed closer than one hundred meters we saw no problem and made a turn. We went along a couple of hundred meters and approached an intersection. Now right away something seemed strange.” Shane was rocking gently back and forth his head was practically in his lap. “The traffic was stopped in the other direction.” I continued. “On Both sides of us at the cross street. I could clearly see the red glare of the traffic light as it reflected on the pavement wet with melted snow.”
Our little group had swollen as other drew around. I looked around as I continued the sorry narrative. “Now we looked and looked hard but there was no traffic light at all for us! We slowed but as traffic was stopped going the other way we proceeded cautiously through the intersection. Horns sounded in both directions. Loud; baring nasty horns. Horns of admonishment. Self righteous horns, if I do say so. We threw up our arms in a simultaneous shrug. We looked at each other as if to say what now? Perhaps the light was not working. Perhaps workmen had taken it down. Damn Winnipegonians, or is it Wonnipegers? Barely a block later was yet another intersection. Incredulously the same phenomenon confronted us. How could it be? Are the city workers of Winnipeg so slow that they can’t fix something as important as a traffic signal? Once again the traffic was stopped the other direction. And once again the blaring of horns greeted us as we proceeded through the intersection. Shane yelled back in frustration that we were trying to obey the traffic signals. If they would just put them up. In a blinding flash it hit me. The realization swept over me why there was no traffic signal in our direction. The people of Winnipeg, in their infinite wisdom and in accordance with the rules of the gods who judge those who walk the earth with excess pride. I yelled to Shane ““Turn right, turn now! Turn into that parking lot!””
The people of Winnipeg in keeping with the rules of survival of the fittest do not put traffic signals up at intersections for those who are driving the WRONG WAY DOWN A ONE WAY STREET! “Shane flung the wheel right and we slid into the empty parking lot. Shane pumped his fist at the GPS “”YOU BRITISH BITCH!”” he cried. “The next day the voice that came out of the device was a man’s. It was a nasty nasally mid-western whine. After all those stupid enough to break the rules take their chances. For in the owner’s manual it did say in black and white “Drivers must obey the laws of traffic at all times.” So why admit to our error so publically? Well like I said pride goeth before the fall. Our pride was definitely gone.