Kim and Davis were really struggling. They had taken the Number 3 bus from the airport as the hotel had told them too, and they got off at the eighth stop once they got into the city proper. It had all seemed so easy. The email had said they would only need to cross the street, and the hotel would be the tall blue building on the right. The problem was, there were no blue buildings.
They crossed the street, baggage in tow, and began asking for directions.
“Do you speak English?” they asked a man of about forty, who responded only with a negative shake of the head.
“Do you speak English?” they again asked; this time to a matronly looking woman who was waiting for the Number 4 bus. “A little, she responded.”
“Great,” Davis said, “Do you no where the New Palace Hotel is?”
“New Palace? No. This I do not know?” she responded.
As a thirty-something man in a business suit approached, Kim blurted “New Palace Hotel?”
The man stopped in his tracks and said in clear but accented English, “Okay, go left at the crosswalk, and then stay on that street for 42 blocks, then take a right.”
“Thank you so much,” Davis said, and the two began the journey, counting off each crossroad. At last they came the the 42nd street and turned dutifully right. To their dismay, they were welcomed by a sign which read not “New Palace,” but rather “Tourist Information Office.”