“It’s as easy to get lost in a snazzy motel as in a four-section Flint Hills pasture.”
The three-and-a-half-hour afternoon drive into the Osage of Oklahoma was relaxing. Couldn’t help reminiscing the famous-but-sometimes-infamous Mullendore Cross Bell Ranch as we passed not far from it.
Into the city in ample time, computer directions guided us east, but we followed the real-map south, and consequently were too far west.
A sweet desk lady at a somewhat-shanty suburb motel gave simple directions. Even we could find our destination a dozen-miles away, sidetracked by only going the wrong way four more times.
However, while still cautious, we stopped a finely-fit jogger, and she smilingly pointed to the hotel sign just again.
“Fancy” came instantly to our brain as we made a right turn into the two-square-block complex. Wrongly turning left, sashaying a u-turn, we parked close to the automatic, rotating doors. Greeted by a big, high-class-suited doorman’s whitest, toothiest smile we’ve ever seen, the glimmer soon faded seeing we didn’t have luggage he could be tipped for carrying.
Half-a-block to the north was registration, where the cheerful girl asked: “Would you like a warm chocolate chip cookie?” Being the tightwad we are: “No thank you.” Then, the light came on, we asked: “Do we have to pay for it?” She grinned: “No.” Of course: “Yes, a cookie sounds good.”
Thankfully, preregistration was in order, because late arriving horseshow judges were being turned away. After getting prepayment paperwork in order, believe-it-or-not complimentary breakfast tickets and a plastic card door opener, directions were given to find our room.
Of course, we were again lost, but first things first. The car’s in a “No-Parking” zone, and must be in the six-level garage a block-and-a-half-away. “The valet will park it for you.” No thanks, no money, we’ll do it.
After 125 elevator rides, really, requesting more directions for six days, really, we survived. Headed out, we became direction-turned going south, and the Flint Hills were north.
Lost just 45-minutes in heavy-fast-accumulating snow, congenial assistance got us directed correct, and we finally made it home. Whew. Fortunately, lots of nice people were there to guide.
Reminds us of Romans 16:2: “Whoever may require assistance, she has been a helper of many including myself.” Likewise, Second Chronicles 18:4: “Before you do anything, ask for guidance.”