I have to admit; when I came across this story about the family who called 911 when they were lost in the corn maze, I completely got it. And I could absolutely see myself in that exact predicament. My difference, though, would be to call my husband instead of 911. I would assume the conversation would go something like this:
“Hi, Michael. Umm, can you help me? I am lost inside a corn maze.”“What?!”
“I am somewhere inside a corn maze and can’t find my way out. I need help.”
“What?!”
“Okay, let me spell this out for you. I am inside a damn corn maze, I have to pee and unless you help me, I am going to call 911.”
“What corn maze?”
“The one off Hwy 48 – by the Harvest Farm Market.”
“Aren’t there other people around?”
“Well, probably. But obviously they figured their way out already. Since I am still inside the thing, I must be in the part that is not the way out. It is pretty big. I think they said it covered 8 acres or so.”
“Did you try yelling?”
“No, I am not going to embarrass myself by doing that!”
“Oh, but you figure calling 911 wouldn’t be embarrassing, right?”
“Just get me out of here, okay? I can do without the lecture. Or at least wait until later; when I am out and after I go to the bathroom.”
“Exactly how am I supposed to help you?”
“I don’t know; use the GPS thingy or google satellite map or something. I am wearing my purple shirt so I should be easy to spot.” LONG PAUSE HERE “Remember when you called me from the airport at 1:00 in the morning asking me to help you find where you parked your car? Well, this is the same thing. I couldn’t help you then and I can’t help you now.”
“Okay, but are you going to bring it up for the next 20 years like the airport thing?”
“Probably.”
“Fine, bye.”
And then I would yell. Or light a match if it was dark.
I can so audio-ize (highly doubt that is a word but visualize doesn’t fit) you two having this conversation. 🙂