Diana, who was in downtown LA for a hearing yesterday, wanted to come down to our courthouse to catch part of our jury trial. She didn’t actually make it until the courts closed down and besides, we got an early verdict (both counts not guilty) so she would’ve missed everything anyway. Instead, she had the cab drop her off across the quad at City Hall and walked over to the courthouse to meet me. I happened to see her across the wide square grass lawn and as we walked toward each other, the first thing she said to me in person was a yell: “YOUR HAIR’S SO SHORT!!!”

With 3 hours until I had to get her to the airport, she opted to not spend precious hang time stuck in traffic, so we went to happy hour at Outback Steakhouse across the street from the courthouse. I think the yummy factor of the new menu surprised us both. The seared ahi and its two sauces were delish, and we filled up on the meaty chicken wings. I think for the first time ever, I drank more alcohol than her. (Pick up your jaws, Diana friends — I only had 2 drinks. She just drank very little.)

I didn’t look up directions to John Wayne Airport in Orange County; I figured that’s why I paid the extra few grand for the navigation system, right? I blame the drinks for my failure to program the airport into the nav system before we took off, and while driving, the nav system disables most programming buttons presumably so I won’t stare at the screen, push a bunch of buttons, and instantly crash. So I pulled off the freeway at what turned out to be the most complicated exit/entrance ever, Diana said to do a list search for SNA, the airport code, and I did, and we went in circles trying to get back onto the freeway. We ended up having to hit the freeway from a few miles down, as the no u-turn signs and lack of side streets made going back on where I got off impossible. While on the freeway, Diana and I laughed about the time she came down earlier in the year when I hadn’t gotten this new car yet and were horribly lost going to a restaurant without a navigation system. We laughed about all the traveling gone wrong on that trip and how those days are over since I’ve now stepped into the wonderful world of GPS technology. And then my nav piped up and told me to exit. So I did. “Hmm, I don’t recognize anything around here,” Diana noted, “I’ve never gone to the airport this way before.” “It must be a major shortcut, cuz it says we’re only 4 minutes away,” I said. We drove into the heart of Santa Ana, commenting all the way about how we don’t see any planes and we don’t recognize anything. Finally, surrounded by Vietnamese and Spanish signs in some plazas, the nav system said, “Your destination is straight ahead to the right.” “It IS?” Diana asked dubiously, looking out the window. What the hell. The map on the nav showed a grid full of streets, and no big space for an airport. Where the hell were we? I pulled into the parking lot of a McDonald’s and this time did a search for “travel,” then “airport,” then “John Wayne.” The guide pointed back onto the freeway to a location about 5 miles away that looked like a big open field with circular runways on the lit map screen. Driving there, things finally started looking familiar. Geez.

That’s not where the nav adventure ends. After I dropped Diana off, I followed its directions to go to Mr. W’s house, 6 miles away according to the nav system. It led me into a secured parking lot where I had to push the automated machine for a ticket to get the wooden arm to lift, then follow nav directions to drive out the other side of the parking lot, where I had to hand the ticket to the guy manning the tollbooth and tell him apologetically, “My navigation system actually directed me through here. I really didn’t park.” He took the ticket, pushed the lever to raise the arm and kindly waved me through without charging me. “Thank you so much,” I said helplessly.

What is it with me and Diana trying to get anywhere when I drive?! Altho, getting lost with a nav is slightly more comforting than getting lost without one, as with the time I was lost in Long Beach in the middle of the night about to drive into the water.