A truly surreal episode in the car happened last night with two friends. Mission: get to a suburban bon voyage party, deliver gifts, have some drinks, and make return drive within an hour. Drive time from city to sub/ex-urb is about fifteen minutes. We were in my car for two hours and never got to the party (none of us were under the influence of anything, lest you're wondering). We passed the football stadium three times, certain other landmarks a few times. Maps were consulted. We stopped and one passenger asked directions from a bar full of regulars. We called various people on our cell phones. The whole time we were searching for a Potter Avenue and ended up on a Potters Road about five miles from where we started - there was a house of the same number and I suggested that, because now we were hurrying to get to other events, that we slow the car and throw our gifts for the bon voyagee out the car windows onto their lawn. After dropping my two passengers off I decided to make another attempt and did make it to the party that time in the fifteen minutes, phoning my friends to tell them so so that they could share in my pride and jubilance. I regaled, or attempted to regale, the suburbanites with the tale of the two-hour drive but they just didn't find it nearly as hilarious, as eye-wateringly gut-busting as we had. But it was a swell party, lots of people, lots of wine, lots of snacks.