Can You Tell Me Where Is Fry's?

Driving home from work tonight, I was accosted by a vaguely foreign-looking fella in the car next to me. So, I turn my head while I'm sitting at the light to see who is admiring my visage at this moment and I see this guy with his pale skin, buggy eyes and unkempt 70s afro staring at me, his eyes shining like a bat with a bad sense of direction.

I know that look. It's the I-need-to-ask-you-something look. See, I'm not from the future like most of you. If I want to roll down my passenger window, I need to lean over and turn the handle in a circular motion. Hoping he's going to ask me if I want a shiny new hundred dollar bill, I roll it down. The look on his face is so sad, though. There's like an 80% chance he's not actually going to give me $100. But, I roll down anyway, because there's still hope.

"Excuse me. Can you tell me where is Fry's?"

Now, you know I'm bad with quick verbal reactions to strangers, but I'm all over this one. I know the answer and I spit it out before he can even finish. See, I work right across the street from the Fry's in question. I've got this shit. I just came from near there; it's behind us about two blocks.

"It's back there just a little on the left-hand side."

"Back there?" he whines, the look on his face growing sadder with each syllable he makes. "But I've turned around three times already."

Three times! Do you know how big Fry's is? It's an electronics store like Best Buy or the Cinnabon. It's fucking huge. If he can't see that building with his big-ass eyes, he needs to get his sonar checked. But the best part about it was his tone of voice, which I'm sure is being appropriately relayed in writing here. I'm such an idiot.

He said it like he thought everybody in Burbank was playing a trick on him--that there wasn't even a Fry's in the city. It was this big inside joke that the whole city played on people, they'd ask and, whichever way their car was facing, tell them it's the opposite way. I just drive the streets hoping somebody asks me if I know where Ikea is. Explaining the trapdoor in the Wendy's drive-thru will be fun.