I took the wrong bus yesterday.
The bus was sitting in the place my bus normally sits, and, assuming that my bus was simply early, I neglected to check the number. The fact that I didn't recognize the driver should have been my first clue, but I was busy thinking about multi-culturalism and prejudice.
The bus took a left turn where it was supposed to go straight, and that's when I clued in. As it stood, I was faced with a decision: get off at the next stop, and walk back to the station, or save face and pretend that I meant to be there. My choleric streak kicked in, and I thought "Ok, today we're going on an adventure.... and hopefully not looking like a dweeb in the process."
It wasn't very much of an adventure. It turned onto a street that I had formerly lived on, so even my pitiful sense of navigation was not thrown off. In some odd sense, I was (nearly) disappointed.
I disembarked at the point where I understood it was as close to my house as it would get, then walked the rest of the way to my house - without getting lost. It was several blocks longer than my usual walk, but it was a nice day outside, though a little slushy.
I arrived victoriously at my front door without any pain, so I'm not complaining. Just rolling my eyes at myself for getting on the wrong bus, and bragging that I did not get lost.
The quote for today (don't recall where I first heard this):
It's not my fault that I can't find my way. I have an iron deficiency, so I don't align with magnetic north.
(Psych analysis of the quote - sounds like I have an external locus of control. Odd. I'm normally quite internal)