Sunday, 19 January 2003 | Misguided

We stepped out of the subway exactly three blocks from our destination. I'd only received half-remembered street coordinates, but I was optimistic that it could be found, so we paid attention to store fronts, stepped into bars to ask directions, and agreed that we didn't mind walking around a little, even with the cold wind turning our faces pink and numb.

The first guy who gave us directions sent us down the street the wrong way several blocks. The second guy told us it was back in the first guy's territory. The third guy was able to point it out directly. When we finally walked through the door, I realized we'd been asking for the place by the wrong name all along, and, although we'd "found" it, it wasn't the right place at all. The fourth guy knew where our intended destination was located and got us there, nearly two hours and 52 blocks later. In the end, we stayed there for only twenty minutes, long enough to have a drink, for my unpeeled layers to attract heat and smoke, and for an unflinching cat named Pumpkin to befriend me and sit on my lap while the band played. Twenty minutes, before leaving and walking the three blocks back to the subway.