He is calling from his rented car. I would judge him to be in his fifties and his kindly looking wife looks nervous. We are in the residential area to the south of the Smith’s on 9th East.
“Are we near the shops in Sugarhouse?”
I’ve never heard them called that before. We have many shops in Sugarhouse, but there isn’t a specific site called “The Shops in Sugarhouse.” He made it sound like a shopping mall instead of the hodge podge of stores that have evolved over the years. I called back to him, my arms straining with the grocery bags, “What are you looking for?”
“The Sundance store.”
Of course. I suddenly feel safer now that I know that I’m giving directions to a tourist. I get closer to the car and move the groceries from one hand to the other so I can point. The weather is a gorgeous 48 degrees Fahrenheit. Mike and I have walked to “The Shops in Sugarhouse” to eat a crepe and get some organic produce from Wild Oats. Mike answers the man first, “It’s right next to Wild Oats. You can see it from here.”
The top of the store quietly peeks out from behind the Granite Furniture warehouse. I dismiss his directions, “He can’t see Wild Oats from here.”
“It’s supposed to be on 11th East. Is that street up there 11th East?”
I shake my head and start pointing. “That is 10th East. Go through that into the parking lot, through the parking lot and you’ll get to 11th East. Turn right on 11th East and then the Sundance store will be on your left.”
“Through there, right, then left. Ok. We’re from Michigan and we were lost. Thank you.”
He slowly drives off and Mike and I head home. I’m glowing a bit from the effort of carrying the groceries and the good deed. I love tourists.