These are the directions from Mascot Airport to Centennial Park Court.
In Wattle Grove.
In case anyone was confused.
This is the way you get to Centennial Park, Sydney:
Someone, whose identity I will protect, made the reasonable assumption that Centennial Park Court and Centennial Park were, in fact, the same place.
And set his GPS to send us there after we dropped him at the airport.
The airport where he was flying out to Italy from. Bastard.
All of this seemed quite reasonable.
Except for the part where Centennial Park COURT and Centennial Park, Sydney, are in OPPOSITE DIRECTIONS.
Pal and I blindly followed the machine.
We both raised concerns after 20 minutes. It seemed as if we were headed away from where we needed to be.
With limited knowledge of Sydney roads (and by limited I mean we can get from Westmead Hospital to Hornsby and back again, and only get lost twice) we continued following the machine’s instructions.
I even pulled out Google Maps and checked, and it told me to turn off at the same place the GPS was.
It meant to turn off so we could turn around. I didn’t read that far down the directions.
So we continued on. Beginning to get annoyed, but both remaining calm.
“Don’t worry about it. If we are going to the wrong place, we will just turn around and go back again. We’ve got time.”
And then we hit the suburbs.
And then we found Wattle Grove shopping center.
We continued, knowing now we were definitely not being directed to Centennial Park.
But curious as to where the hell we were actually going.
“You have arrived at Centennial Park Court. Destination on right.”
I checked the GPS then.
We had arrived at our destination.
1 Centennial Park Court.
“Pal, I hate your brother.”
“It’s not his fault, he asked if Centennial Park Court was right, and I just said yes.”
“Then I hate both of you.”
“You checked and even said we were going the right way!”
“WHAT DO I KNOW!!! I DON’T DRIVE!”
Yelling totally distracted him from the fact that this was also my fault, right?
We turned around. We drove back..
Punctuated with the odd mumbled:
We found ourselves in traffic. Pal found himself wanting to turn off.
“No, honey, I don’t think you are meant to turn.”
He didn’t hear me.
Also, what do I know? I don’t drive.
So he turned. And the GPS had a conniption.
“YOU ARE GOING THE WRONG WAY!”
“YOU DON’T LISTEN!”
“I’M SORRY, OK!?!”
Then Pal did a u-turn.
Right into the bus only lane, next to the highway.
And drove right past a cricket game. Where they all laughed at us.
And a bunch of trussed up fillies waiting at the bus stop. Where they all laughed at us.
On he went, through the bus lane.
“If you get a fine, I am going to hurt you.”
“If I get a fine I am going to hurt myself.”
Grace called. Told us how to reach her.
We found our way out of the bus lane.
Managed to skip about 10 minutes of traffic.
And finally turned into a road where saw the massive stone entrance.
Not Centennial Park Court.
And gloriously found a parking space that wasn’t a kilometre from the cafe.
Where Grace, Pal and I sat and had a Chai Latte and laughed.
Mostly about what a hothead I am and how crazy twin boys are.
And the time we went through Balmain to get from Cremorne to Hornsby…
Balmain was nice that time of night.
On the left: How we should have gone. On the right: How we actually went.
Have you ever gotten lost on strange roads?
Did it almost end in divorce?