A few days ago my daughter and I went thrifting. She was through with all the thrift stores in Madison, “picked over by hipsters.” So we drove about 30 minutes to Sun Prairie, Wisconsin. The Goodwill there was fantastic. I found a blue light globe glowy thing for my balcony. She found a Harley rally tee from Prague (and a whole lot more). Thrilled, we paid our $35 and headed home.
Here's the thing. She finds Siri annoying. Messes up the flow of the music. So I went sans Siri. I got lost.
I ended up, at night, surrounded by corn fields and no houses. None. Where the hell was I? I refused my daughter’s suggestion of Siri’s help and soldiered on.
After 20 minutes of wandering we saw lights all alone up ahead. As we got closer we could make out a sign: “Chicken Licks.” I had never heard of the place. The parking lot was packed. We cautiously entered. The sign above the bar explained it all: chicken wings, deep fried yummies, and lots of sauces.
We had a great time. And as I looked at a table filled with wings (buffalo sauce, thank you very much), deep fried pickle chips, waffle fries, a Shirley Temple, and a beer, I thought to myself, “If I had used a map we would be eating leftover veggie stir fry right now.” And I don’t think she would have playfully thrown a pickle chip at me.
This week we are having an encore performance of a show I produced called “Off the Map.” I don’t know about you but I love maps. They are amazing. They are romantic. They show us who and where we are. But not all who wander are lost. Especially when they end up at a chicken shack in the middle of nowhere with their 17-year-old daughter who was just a few precious days away from starting her senior year in high school.
– Charles
PS
I did turn on Google Maps to get home (I still had no idea where I was). When it came up it said we were 18 minutes from home. 18 minutes. You don’t need a map to be gloriously lost in your own backyard.