Confessions Of A Map Nerd

 I admit it - I'm a map nerd.

But it's not just any old map that strikes my fancy. It's not things like precise mileage that interests me - though I do feel a certain thrill upon learning that the nearest Bath and Body Works is 10.3 miles away (or an even stranger thrill at the odd directions that Google maps gives to get there - why is it necessary to circle the block first?). No, the map has to be special, unique, or peculiar somehow.  

For instance, MUFON's live UFO map is a thing of beauty and perfection. And I'm not even that interested in UFOs. I mean, The Truth Is Out There, and all that, but unless they are buzzing my house or rustling my livestock, it's just not that much of a concern. But (at least here in phantasmagoria-land) that map is glorious.

Or maps that are temporarily, oddly specific, like this one of the downtown area, marked with little ghosts for Halloween festivities. Suddenly, it looks as if that boring old warren of shops is awash in spirits. Very conveniently located ones, too.

 

Especially nice are hand-drawn maps. I always like to receive invitations to out-of-town weddings, despite not enjoying big social occasions very much. It's because they usually include a hand-drawn map to the venue, printed on little cards. When you collect something as random and ephemeral as that, you'd be surprised  at what begins to look like a free gift.

Even better than that is the found hand-drawn map. Usually discovered crumpled on the sides of roads, or in the damp grass on the edge of  a lawn. Like this one:

One wonders how so many come to be lost in such a way. Do they fly out windows as the driver squints at street numbers? Or is the seeker so thrilled at reaching their destination that they joyously fling their map to the wind? There is always a sense of mystery about them. Who drew them? Why and what for? Was the journey dreaded or highly anticipated? Or something more in between? The chances of ever knowing is slim indeed.

The particular map above has a nice synchronicity attached to it. One summer evening, we were walking along while I bemoaned how I wished that fate, the universe or whatever it is out there would send me a guidebook or a map. What direction should I go with my life? Just then, the wind (or the Cosmic Joker)  blew this crumpled bit of paper at my feet. Judging from what's drawn there, I can only surmise the universe was guiding us away from Myron's restaurant. Which is unfortunate, really, since Myron's macaroni and cheese is most excellent.

As far as psychogeography goes, there is pages worth going on in that tiny scrawl. Just take the area marked "underpass". That's really the MKT railroad bridge, which has a nice echo underneath for screaming (no child can resist) and popular for teenage activities ("Do you wanna go throw eggs off the MKT bridge?" said every high school class for the last 90 years). Or that little bit of stream (unmarked, but seems to have a tiny  dot over it) that feels like it should belong in another world. Plus many, many more things that I may or may not write about one day. 

Even Google maps can sometime reveal secrets only dreamt of, quite literally. Off and on, I'd had a dream that there was an extra, hidden street in our neighborhood. It seemed so realistic that it haunted me, but it was  impossible; I knew every nook and cranny of this place. It must have been one of those dreams like finding hidden rooms in your house. Until I looked at the satellite view and saw  - wonder of wonders! - there was a hidden street in the neighborhood.

Maps. Ordinary, utilitarian items containing infinite mystery.