What just happened this morning was like something out of a comedy sketch. I had just dropped Christine’s car off for service at the Honda place on Marine Drive and was walking back alongside the busy road towards the bus stop. Suddenly a minivan pulled up and a slightly befuddled-looking middle-aged couple asked me for directions to Tsawassen. I leaned in and did my best to guide them, but a sharp honk from a motorist behind us reminded me that this was a traffic lane – so I suggested they meet me around the corner, back by the car dealership. I jogged back and we had a little chat. I offered my best guidance, and in a few moments they were on their way. I turned and strolled back along the empty sidewalk as traffic whizzed by. Within ten seconds, a car pulled up to the curb. In it was another couple looking every inch the tourist. The woman at the passenger window had her window down. I walked over with a strong feeling of deja vu. She clutched a batch of Google Maps printouts in her lap; I glanced at them and saw they were in German. This should be interesting. Luckily she spoke English and, unlike the other couple, they actually had some maps on them (though just simple ones, which explained why they were a little lost). Again, a horn honk behind us. Again, a jog back to the corner. These folks were headed not to Tsawassen but east to Chilliwack. We figured out the most direct way to Highway 99. And then… attempt #3 (for those of you scoring at home) to actually make it along that short stretch of sidewalk without being stopped for directions! I felt like taking the newspaper I was carrying and holding up to my face. As it was, I sped up into a slight trotting pace, furtively glancing at the onrushing traffic, hoping I didn’t look very helpful. This time it worked. But now I had a new challenge: there was no crosswalk and if I didn’t somehow nip across the busy street, it appeared I’d be forced to walk all the way up the overpass an over to the airport. Across Marine Drive, in the curved access ramp arcing toward Oak Street, there was a lone bus stop. And looking east, I saw my bus approaching it. A gap in the traffic appeared. I zipped to the median, then burst across the remaining lanes. I’d made it! Then I looked over to see my bus breezily passing the empty bus shelter. Noooooooo! Luckily it wasn’t long until the next one. Riding home, I couldn’t help but laugh at my double-dose of navigation requests. Maybe I’ve stumbled upon a hotspot for lost travelers. Or could it be that I just look especially helpful and friendly?