My friend Marty got a new(er) car. It's purty, and it's fancy. It has cool interior lights that glow in different colors when you press a button and a TV screen you can talk to. I got to ride in it last night when we were on our way to someplace across the state line that neither of us was familiar with. We were armed with Betty's (that's her car's name) information kiosk, two iPhones with all of the latest Apple has to offer for navigation and direction, and the address of the place. We were set, right? Wrong.
Everything was cool until we were about five miles from our destination. Up until then we were on familiar highways. Now comes the part where we need some direction from somewhere. We try talking to Betty first. Betty is calm and soothing and a good listener. Right up to the part where she tells us the address doesn't exist. Now mind you, we are trying to find the First Baptist Church of a sizable town, not an illegal cockfight.
Everybody knows that the First Baptist Church of pretty much any town is usually bigger than city hall. Baptists know how to build a church, Honey. The higher the steeple, the closer to God. No drinking, no dancing, but they've got parking for 5000 and a sanctuary with ceiling lights you need a crane to change the bulbs in. Don't tell me the address doesn't exist, Betty.
We move on to the maps app on my iPhone 5. I can't figure out how to start routing us from our "current location" to the church because I don't KNOW what our current location is. I don't think telling it "on 350 Hwy between KFC and the Easy Breezy car wash" is going to fly. Isn't that what satellites are for, for crying out loud? YOU tell ME what our current location is.
Next I try talking to Siri. If you read my blog, you know how I feel about Siri. If you don't, and you don't care to read up, Siri doesn't get me. And I don't like Siri. The Bible teaches us to love everyone, but Siri isn't a person, so in my opinion, I can think unkind thoughts about her and keep my salvation.
Siri is at first confused by my overly-complicated command of "navigation to First Baptist Church of (city's name)" Can you smell the sarcasm here? She comes up with some instructions for knitting a sock monkey, but not directions to the church. I simplify the command. She then comes up with the names of 44 churches in the area, one of them being our destination. She says to "tap the right location". I tap. And tap again. Harder. TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP Nothing.
Knowing that touch phones are sensitives little wussies and don't like cold fingers, I stick my fingers between my warm butt cheek and the heated seat for a few seconds. Tap. TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP Nothing. I have my friend try. Tap. TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP Nothing. Siri is such a b.....ig waste of time.
I hearken back to my Android phone days and open Google maps. Google has NEVAH let me down. I type in our destination, Google springs to life, finds our current location (PTL!) and immediately sets us on our way. Two blocks later, we are faced with a one way bridge with big signs saying "Do Not Enter".
At this point, if I were driving, I would have made sure I didn't see any cars on approach, said a prayer, and floored it across that bridge. I can see on the map that this road leads directly to the church, so I'm not going to let a little thing like one-way traffic stop me. But I'm not driving, and my friend has owned Betty for all of about two hours, so she opts to go around the bridge. Wimp.
We are now in a desolate part of town full of warehouses, barbed wire fences and bad lighting. I'm pretty sure this is where the torture scenes of the movie Reservoir Dogs were filmed. However, Google faithfully leads us out of the Tarentino district and back onto the main road. A few miles later, it tells us we have "arrived" at our destination. Which is a field. No steeple, no cross, no Baptists. Just grass and tumbleweeds. Dang, Google. You let me down, and I am broken hearted.
I try and save some face for Google by telling my friend that Google is so advanced that this is probably the "future home of the First Baptist Church" and that they just haven't broken ground yet. She's not buying it. I tried.
We drive a little further down and do a u-turn, and BAM! Appearing to us suddenly out of the fog and confusion is (cue the "Hallelujah Chorus") the First Baptist Church in all of its steepled, four story glory!! We are giddy, we are celebrating, we are woo-hooing, we going to a funeral visitation at a Baptist church, so we'd better simmer the heck down and rein it in.
After all of that, we decide it confirms what we already knew. For women over forty, sometimes a lot of technie bells and whistles is just a big colossal waste of time. Nothing beats a simple approach, like pulling over at the Phillips 66 and asking the counter dude where the biggest church in town is. In our high-tech world, sometimes we forget that. So Siri can shove it, and Betty can keep her information kiosk. But I still think her color changing cup holders are pretty cool.
Sparkly Kisses,
D
