The Great Mall Adventure

As a Jersey girl, I find it necessary to visit every mall in the state. It's one of our common goals as girls in Jersey. That and simultaneously spraying enough hairspray in our already sprayed hair to cause the ozone layer to thin out over Atlantic City for the duration of said spray...while navigating a jughandle on our way to a Bon Jovi concert.

Ok, obviously I'm being sarcastic. If you didn't catch that you should start here and work your way forward. And if you're still not picking up on it, you don't know me at all, in which case, hi, welcome, there are cookies on the table in the corner and welcome to a crash course in Hesper.

Anyway, here is the gist of the adventure. After work on Wednesday, Zombie Leftovers, her boyfriend (who I do not know well enought to give a real nickname to so I will call him Mr. Bob), and I decided to take a mini-trip to the Bergen Mall to visit The Pirate. Now, this seems seemingly simple. Get on a highway, drive, arrive, yayness. I assure you that simple, this was not.

First of all, I woke up at 5:15 for no real reason except that my body is clearly rebelling against me for trying to be an adult and getting back at me using reverse-psychology. Instead of trying to sleep in, it keeps trying to wake me up earlier just because it can. Then I went to work all day, culminating with working with 5-6 year olds on Annie, which was super fun, but tiring. Sooo...when Zombie Leftovers claimed that the Bergen Mall was 25 minutes away (or so) I figured it was no big deal. What she didn't tell me was that she didn't take traffic or her extreme lack of directions into account.

The traffic was the usual rush-hour traffic, so no one can be held responsible for that. Since no one who reads this will be familiar with the roads I'll be referencing, I'll just put it in super layman's terms. We got off the major interstate highway, turned onto a local highway (going the wrong direction as per Zombie Leftovers' directions) and were in downtown crazy Jersey town. I don't even know which town it was at that point, all I do know is that after 10-15 minutes going the wrong direction, we pulled over to a gas station where every attendant gave us different directions. And suggested that instead of the Bergen Mall, we go to the Garden State Plaza. Finally a nice business suit guy gave us decent directions. Now, by "us" I mean "Zombie Leftovers" because she's the one who got out of the car to ask.

We turn around, head back in the right direction, and Zombie Leftovers announces that she knew that we went the wrong way, declares herself "right" and decides to get adventurous yet again and tells us to take a random right-hand turn onto a road that "may be right...or something." For some reason, I listen to her. Now we're in some ridiculous residential area with no sign of anything that remotely resembles a mall. We turn around. Zombie Leftovers announces that she knew it was wrong and that she was right. Again.

Now we're back on the local highway and we go past the ramp from which we entered in the first place. Zombie Leftovers announces that she's right. We finally find the right place to be and pull into the parking lot. Zombie Leftovers declares that she's right.

We walk into one store, only to find out that it is not, in fact, connected to the rest of the mall. We head upstairs and attempt to find an entrance to the actual mall. By the time we finally do see The Pirate, it's nearly 6:30 and we left at about 5. 25 minutes my ass. Oh, and Zombie Leftovers relayed the story to The Pirate, frequently expressing that she was right and she knew we were going the wrong way. Thankfully, Mr. Bob and I cleared up any misconceptions The Pirate may have fairly quickly.

Long story short, the next time we take a random road trip, Zombie Leftovers will not be the navigator, I don't care how correct she is.