Stop the Presses!

Something unprecedented in my five-year tenure in the greater Selfimportantville area happened today. I had to drive into downtown Selfimportantville twice... to two different locations... for two completely unrelated events... intersecting both the morning and evening rush hours... and...

I was given perfect directions.

Both times.

Not a single detour.

Not even for construction.

You must understand, Selfimportantville, in addition to being populated by the worst drivers in America, is impossible to navigate. Multiple reasons for this. First of all, the original settlers delegated all the urban planning to their livestock, and never thought to reclaim the responsibility until it was too late. Also, local infrastructure has been consistently under-engineered as a matter of public policy, so on any day most of the city is affected by road repair/expansion projects, all of which will yield results sure to prove as inadequate as the original conditions.

Mostly, though, Selfimportantville is so self important that things like, say, street signs, are considered unnecessary. Why would we need a street sign? All the Selfimportantvillains know what street they're on. They know whether it's one-way or a dead end, and how many lanes it's supposed to have. Who cares about everybody else?

An entirely nonliterary occurrence, granted (unless you consider the fact that I was listening to The House of Mirth on both drives). Yet, a momentous one. I found a building in Selfimportantville on the first try? Perhaps there is hope for humanity after all.