Garmin me

Lately, road signs for me have become bright highway décor.

They obviously can't be for real people who need adequate warning to make good decisions that won't end in a five-car pileup.

For instance, my significant other and I tripped down to Kansas City this weekend. A new baby, three softball games and a sparkling diamond ring - there was a lot to get in.

I've always been proud of my cardinal direction prowess, but there are only certain parts of KC that I can easily navigate; otherwise, I'm a fish out of the water. With no burning desire to find myself on Troost Avenue again, I always print directions.

Of course, in my excited rush, I forgot to print said directions.

Getting to Grandview - easy. Getting from Grandview to the ring shop - not so easy. But after some verbal instruction from my brother, we were on our way.

And then we hit construction.

Kansas City is like a never-ending construction zone, and thus, I believe, the problem.

"We're supposed to stay on 35 South. Is that an exit coming up?"

"Looks like one."

"Well, which way do I go?"

"Which one is 35 South?"

"I don't know! I'm asking you!"

(I'm getting a bit distressed here, with the lane splitting into two just yards away and jam-packed traffic surrounding me.)

"Which one is it? Which one?!"

"I have no idea, where's the signs?"

"I don't know! You're the cartographer, you tell me!"

"I read maps, not road signs!"

And off we go onto an exit, I-35 South gently slipping away.

Was there a sign for the exit I mistakenly took? Sure - about 20 feet past the exit around an eastern bend in the road.

Was there a sign telling me which lane remained I-35 South? Sure - about 20 feet past the exit around a western bend in the road.

Was there a sign at the exit, clearly marking both highways? No.

Frustrating, but not a big deal. Just turn around, get back on 35 North and take 35 South.

Wrong.

I turned around, but I couldn't get back. Why? Construction cones were blocking my way onto the ramp. And of course, the road crews didn't have the decency to make a detour path for out-of-towners who don't know every single road and where it leads.

Now we're in downtown Kansas City, and I kind of know the area, but not the exact street we're on. So I drive northbound for a mile - housing districts.

Backtrack - same ramp, still blocked off, still no detour. I believe in my frantic state I was hoping a detour would magically spring up and save my sanity, but ... no.

Heading back south, I know I can get onto 35 somewhere, although I'm feeling the desperation set in.

So we drive ... and drive ... and I'm getting antsy, until finally I see a glorious sign for I-435, a road I know well.

"We want 435 North so we can intersect with 35 South."

"OK, you want this exit. On the right ... on the right, watch that car!"

Mere seconds pass as I finally make it into the exit lane and quickly scan the signs overhead.

"This says 435 South! I want North!"

"Well I don't see a North, OK?!"

"Oh #$@#!"

As I see I-435 North rapidly approaching on the other side of the trafficway, I make my hasty move.

Do I need a turn signal to cross five lanes of traffic? Not by that point.

Several moments of gargling sounds from my throat passed in the otherwise silent truck.

Was there a sign warning me that the exits would be on opposite sides of the interstate? Of course not - that would make my life easier, and who wants that?

A couple more wrong exits, a call to the highway patrol about an almost-wreck with a guy obviously suffering from his own ego and a bad case of road rage, and one migraine later, and we headed home.

Top of my Christmas list this year - the most expensive Garmin in existence.

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Katy Blair is the Globe associate editor. She can be reached at 367-0583, Ext. 210, or katyblair@npgco.com.

www.atchisonglobeonline.com