Road Trip Horror Story

If anyone has ever been to Amsterdam, NY, please raise your hand. Anybody? I would like to think nobody had their hand up. And here's why.

My boyfriend and I decided to drive from Vermont to visit my family in Kentucky. We made a few stops along the way, visited a few friends. Once we arrived at our destination, we hiked and ate some delicious, southern, homemade dinners. And then we had to leave. That's always the worst part a road trip knowing you now have to recreate the same long path in reverse to go back to your life that you so eagerly escaped for a short while. We hit the road nice and early to avoid any trouble we might encounter due to the rainy weather in the south that day. That wasn't even the start of it.

Everything was going smoothly (besides the fact that apparently gas stations in Kentucky aren't open as early as my eyes were) until we hit New York. I think it's a gorgeous state with a lot to offer. But on this day, I cursed it. There were potholes, construction and blinding sunlight. But, big deal. You get through it. And then we got to Amsterdam. After taking the exit my directions instructed me to take, we found ourselves in a city with so many signs for congressmen and construction cluttering the roadways, it was impossible to confidently say we knew where we were headed. My directions told me to follow the signs toward 9N. Now I ask you: if your directions tell you to take 9N, you understand that to mean 9 North correct? Well, not here. After following that road for a good hour, we found ourselves again buried in signs. Eventually, we found out way to the next road we needed: 22. We reach a three way intersection that instructs us to go straight to follow 22N. An hour or so later, we see a familiar bridge to our left, that we oddly remember being on our right quite a while back. Then we see a run down factory with memorable phrases scrawled on the side in an artistic manner with a bold color choice, and realize it's happened again.

"How is that even possible!?", as I slam my head against the wheel. We follow a side road to the nearest gas station to ask for directions. Despite the language barrier we had with the Hispanic clerk, he attempts to help us get back on track. When we bring out the map and show him what we had done and explain that we're just trying to take 22 North home, he laughs at our apparent stupidity. The "N" is just a randomly assigned letter that keeps the road identities from doubling up in the state. Silly us. He directs us to the nearest exit to head north, and feeling completely defeated by the state of New York, we finally found our way home.

If I ever feel the need to go to Amsterdam, I'm going to invest in a passport and a plane ticket because I'll probably be more successful across seas.