Exultant from our conquest of Los Angeles, we relaxed a bit and though about how easy it was going to be going the rest of the way home. The vehicle was almost going to drive itself home. It was like a horse heading for the barn, needing no coaxing at all.
Something funny happened right about the time we were breaking out the victory cigars. And without Walt Disney there to bail us out, things might have turned out drastically different, allowing us to 'snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.'
When we were driving down to San Diego, we tried to get a real good look at how the exits would look from the opposite direction. I would have my lovely co-pilot, Fatima, crane her delicate neck around after we exited the 118 to enter the 210. In other words, I wanted to see what the signs actually said when facing northward, approaching our exit from the 210 and getting onto the 118. And she reported what she saw and it all seemed pretty straightforward.
Except coming to the end of the 210, in anticipation of seeing the exit sign for the 118, we saw arrows and indicators for everything EXCEPT for the 118. We saw indicator arrows to here and there. We as arrows pointing to the 5, but we didn't want to take the 5. Honestly when we came south, I swear we never touched the 5. The 5 crossed under the 118 just before the 118 merged into the 210, so we knew we would not encounter the 5 in our return journey.
In a panic, I took an exit that I had no business taking: the dreaded 134, also known as the Ventura Freeway. I couldn't have erred more egregiously than if somehow I'd steered us 180 degrees in the opposite direction on the 210. The 134 was sucking us back into the vortex of downtown LA. Literally, if you cracked open the car windows, you could hear the sucking sound of downtown LA drawing everything into its gaping snarly maw. Visions of another intimate tour of Hollywood at 3 miles per hour flashed in my brain. Fortuitously, I had the sense, a gift given to me at that very moment by my beautiful co-pilot, Fatima, to get off at the nearest exit, regroup and plan how to get back on track.
As it happened, that exit was for South Buena Vista Street, I believe in southwestern Burbank. At the time the street name registered nothing in my mind. The words, "we're lost!" seemed to superimpose themselves on every sign we laid eyes on. Having gone down the street a few blocks, we saw nothing that gave us any sense of hope, such as a sign that said, "This way to the 118." It seemed to be a sort-of downtown-ish business street.
Once again, wisdom from my lovely co-pilot prevailed and we stopped. The only thing we saw on the street that looked like a place to ask directions was back toward the freeway, where we saw an entrance to a business complex of some sort. At the entrance to the complex was a security building. We drove back to the entrance and turned into the complex, only to discover that we'd found our way to none other that Walt Disney Studios (hence the name Buena Vista Street)!
I timidly pulled up to the guard station. There was a barrier preventing access into the actual complex, so we had to stop anyway. With the window rolled down, the security guard came up to greet us and ask us our business here.
I'd heard from multiple sources about the kind of man Walt Disney was. One thing I've heard and read over and over is that Walt Disney was a man who didn't just want to build a brand or a business, but a culture. And specifically, he wanted to imprint his own courteous, positive, happy, joyous personality onto everyone associated with his name and brand. I knew this to be true at Disneyland. But what about the guard station at the entrance to Walt Disney Studios? Did that imprinting extend even to security guards. As one former executive at Walt Disney wrote about this, he said: "You don’t have to be happy to work at Disney, but you do have to act happy for eight hours."
The refreshing and resounding answer was: YES! This was a guard that Walt would have been proud of. He was courteous, positive and happy (I didn't get enough time spent with him to see joyousness). He treated us like we were his most important assignment at that moment. He knowledgeably oriented us to where we were and understood where we wished to be. And although he didn't see the sense in having us go back to the place where I'd messed up, he did propose a brilliant way forward to get us right back on track.
I would venture to say that Walt Disney Saved our whole day. This security guard (I wish I had remembered his name) exhibited the values of the Founder and helped a couple of lost kids in the big city. I don't know if the security guard was just having a great day, or was simply emulating the values of his boss. Whatever the case, we were so glad to have been lost where we were. It was simply Providence, proof that God loved us!
The alternative route also included another Diamond Lane which allowed us to continue cruising at the same pace we'd experienced all the way through Pasadena. We were home in record time (6 hours to be exact. I am told that six hours is amazing, considering the obstacle that is LA rush hour traffic.
We still don't exactly know what happened back on the way from the 210 to the 118. But we have found the Southern Passage. Next time, we will be ready to face the difficulty and, this time, meet the challenge. But we know, even if we do the unthinkable, and get lost on the way, Walt Disney is going to save our day once again!
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