(So—My wonderful friend and former roommate, Gwen, and I decided to do a writing challenge that I learned about through third party. We would each write a story, and then give the other person the very first line of the story. From that first line, we would each have to write our own stories. Then we could compare and contrast.
Well, she gave me a line, and I wrote. You can check out her stories over at http://apprenticenevermaster.wordpress.com No really, go check them out. She’s amazing.
Here goes nothing. )
Robin made a habit of getting lost in every city she visited. That was the way that she really got to know the place. Her theory was the way that a city treated a lost tourist was the way to get the real vibe of exactly what was going on.
Sometimes, a city was consistent. Every single time she got lost in Virginia Beach, the teenagers would send her in the wrong directions, and the adults would send her in the right ones. In New York City, people were surprisingly friendly and helpful, if and only if, you could find one to slow down long enough to help.
Other cities changed with every visit. In Boston, Robin once had a great experience where she was escorted on an impromptu tour of the city by a very nice woman who was so proud of her city she wanted Robin to not let an hour or so of being lost taint her view of a city. Another time, she was beat down and mugged for every penny. In London, she had been ignored, sworn at, escorted through the underground, lent money for a cab, and even invited out to see a show.
But every time that plane landed, or the train wheels squeaked to a stop, she could feel the tingling in her feet, excited to switch off the GPS on her phone, and hide the map, and walk in whatever direction looked prettiest, ready to be lost once again. What would the city show her this time?
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