When Mary and I first visited San Diego, back in March 2010, we decided that we were going to visit Balboa Park. Neither of us was feeling good that day and we were spatting a bit, but we went anyway. We hopped a bus from the Point Loma Hostel to downtown, but, being too lazy to figure out which bus to use next, decided to hoof it to Balboa Park. We asked someone for directions. He explained that our desired road, Park Avenue, lay past the numbered streets. Off we walked, passing 2nd Street, 3rd, 4th, and so on.
Half an hour later, around 28th Street, we began to wonder where the heck we were, and why we had not yet run into Park Avenue. Sweaty and frustrated, we searched the empty residential sidewalks for someone to ask for directions.
At the corner of 30th Street, we finally found someone who stared at us, pointed at the direction from which we’d come, and said, “Park Avenue is about a mile back that way.”
Grumbling at no one in particular, we turned around, and then we saw it:
For the non-Star-Wars-geeks in the room, here is what we imagined:
We both burst out laughing. The air cleared a bit. We ended up being lost for another hour as we tried to find the park, but it didn’t matter. “After all,” I told Mary, “the detour was worth it just to see that sign!”
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