Monday was supposed to be my very first yoga class with my friend Kelly. My responsibility was printing off the directions. I forgot to bring the paper with me that told me where we needed to go but figured I could look it up online.
I searched for "Mount Carmel" and looked at what facility was in New Albany. It was the New Albany Surgical Hospital. I thought that was a little odd but figured they had some community room or something where they taught health and wellness classes. (It's hard to type with a cat sitting in your lap insisting you pet her.)
We were both running late, so ended up with 15 minutes to get across town in rush-hour traffic. We opted to use back roads and were doing fine until we found streets with no signs. That made it hard to find the right one! Thank goodness for cell phone GPS.
Finally we pull up to the New Albany Surgical Hospital and are struck with a sinking feeling that we're in the wrong place. Trotting into the super posh lobby (it is New Albany, after all) with our sweat pants and yoga mats, we ask the security guards where the yoga classes were. They stared at us and finally one says "Um we don't have yoga here."
At this point a cute doctor had stopped by the desk (probably wondering what kind of freaks wanted to do yoga in a hospital) and I was wishing a giant hole would open up in the ground so I could jump in. Finally, we managed to find out that the New Albany Health and Wellness Center was on High Street.
Of course, we don't have an address so we just set our GPS for High Street and headed for North High Street instead of the correct South High Street. (Did you even imagine we'd go the right way?) We finally show up to class 40 minutes late.
It takes us 5 minutes to figure out which room was ours. (Kelly said, "I keep hearing chimes" to which I explained "no that's just creepy yoga music." They were also burning incense. We pushed open the door and saw a lot of middle-aged butts in the downward dog position. (see, I know some yoga terminology!) Alas, there was no space for our mats.
Defeated, we left, but headed for a cute custard shop on North High Street. (Getting lost has its benefits.) And really, aren't we winners if we end up with sugarfree dulce de leche custard? I thought so!