I’d like to take some time today to provide a brief history and analysis of continental land navigation. I know that sounds like a fancy, Ivy League master’s thesis, but what it means, simply, is, “How did we get heeyah from theeyah?”  At least that’s how you would say it if it was your thesis at Harvard.  Navigation is an important consideration for those of us who spend 90% of our time crammed into small spaces with no hope of full limb extension.  This would include members of the AMB and non-free range chickens.  You see, the more efficient we are at navigating, the less time we spend caged in, hence, the more organic we are and the better we taste.  As a side note, all AMB members are allowed access to clean water.  Camille is fed an organic, vegetarian diet.

Just look at those chickens enjoying acres of free-ranging bliss – courtesy of Oaklyn Plantation, freerangechicken.com

In the early days of human development, the AMB performed within a small radius of their home den, exploiting well known landmarks for directions.  Early music ministers would say things like, “Go that way to big rock.  Then stop.  Then go to village past three trees.”  As the AMB became more nomadic, they began to develop an animal migrational instinct to find their way from their den to shows and back again as the seasons changed.  This was quite effective and allowed them to expand their fan base.  With time, they began to notice patterns in the sky and the trajectory of the sun, and the earliest form of Celestial, or Astro, navigation was developed, whereby one’s direction is determined by the location of the stars and major solar bodies in the sky.  However, this form of guidance was not without its drawbacks. Three former drummers, two bassists, and a kazoo player all lost their eyesight staring into the sun for direction.  Nights proved easier, but only on cloudless or partly cloudy nights. Typical astro-navigational conversation would go like this:

FEMALE PASSENGER: Take a right at the dipper.
MALE DRIVER: I know. Right at the Little Dipper.
FEMALE PASSENGER: No, it’s the Big Dipper…
MALE DRIVER: No, no, it’s the Little Dipper.
FEMALE PASSENGER: Wait, she said if you hit Capricorn you’ve gone too far.  You’d better turn around and head back towards Virgo.
MALE DRIVER: We just came from Virgo!  It must be around here somewhere.
FEMALE PASSENGER: Well, I know it’s not towards Venus.  That’s where I go to get my nails done. We’re lost.
MALE DRIVER:  We’re not lost.  I know where we’re going.
FEMALE PASSENGER:  Why can’t you just admit that we’re lost?  Oh, pull over and ask those three wise-looking men on camelback for directions.

This very crude system was much refined when, in 221 BC, a Chinese band member by the name of Ho Chi Moses, developed the first compass.  Now, instead of the confusion associated with saying “up and to the right,” they could say  “southeasterly in a northwest direction.”

The next revelation came with the advent of improved roadways and maps.  These new portable and affordable maps, along with well documented roads, allowed the AMB to travel in confidence with only a basic set of reading skills.  This was a very stable way of traveling.  In fact, this system has remained nearly unchanged until just this last century with the military’s invention of the Global Positioning Satellite.  Otherwise known as GPS, this system works by monitoring your position in real time via satellite, plotting the best route, and drawing it against pre-loaded maps.  A computer synthesized voice then articulates your directions for you.  It is also very good at pointing out your inadequacy in being able to follow directions, by having to constantly “recalculate” your route.  In spite of these constant blows to your self-esteem, this system has worked well by providing the surety of satellite location, on maps with which we are already familiar.  As a bonus, I can change my car indicator from a sedan to a tank to a pirate ship.

But now we have gone one step further with a system called On Star, wherein we have completely given up the ability to decide for ourselves a route to travel in favor of the suggestion of some faceless voice coming through our vehicle’s sound system.  In spite of the fact that we can’t see our location on a map, don’t have any control over our choice of route, are not sure if the faceless voice is located in America, or that the faceless voice is honest enough to even send us to our intended destination, we feel completely assured because the voice asks us if we need directions, and when we reply that we do, it informs us that it can help us with that.  Ahh, immediate gratification.  The process goes something like this:

On Star sound effect
ON STAR: Hello, Mr… Wahl-A-Ver (they always jumble the name).  Do you need directions this evening?
MR. WOL A VER: Yes.
ON STAR: I can help you with that.  What City and State?
MR. WOL A VER: Asheville North Carolina.
ON STAR:  Nashville North Carolina.
MR. WOL A VER: No, ASHeville North Carolina
ON STAR: Ok. Asheville North Carolina.  And the address?
MR. WOL A VER:  Hampton Inn on Main St.
ON STAR:  I’m looking that up right now.  I have the Hampton Inn on Main St in Asheville, NC.  Is there anything else I can help you with this evening?
MR. WOL A VER: Yes, can I get a large cheese pizza and a dozen spicy wings?

OK, I made that last part up.  But it would be great if they could dispatch a pizza delivery man to our side door.  Anyway, after they hang up, an automated voice comes on and announces that our directions will be downloaded to our vehicle momentarily.  From this point, on the automated voice will be our turn by turn guide.  It’s congenial enough, telling us “Your destination is in 546 miles.  Start out going east on I-40.”  However, much like the GPS, an automaton is only an automaton.  Everytime we need to stop for gas or “necessaries”, the voice tells us, “You have left the planned route.  Do you need directions to get back to the planned route.  Please say yes or no.”  It seems harmeless enough, even down right polite.  But it has to say this whole thing every single time!  And you can’t interrupt it.  It has total authority.  But here is the kicker.  If there is any amount of background noise, or if you don’t pronounce the “yes” or the “no” just so, it may not understand and will ask you to clarify.  Let’s take a real world example.  Our drummer, Javier, is from Puerto Rico.  He is bilingual, speaking both Spanish and English… but his English is… well… a little mumbly.  Like to the point where I have to translate for waitresses at the Cracker Barrel.  On this particular occasion Javi spoke up to tell the On Star voice that we would not need directions back to our planned route.

ON STAR: You have left the planned route.  Do you need directions to get back to the planned route?  Please say yes or no.
JAVIER: No (with his accent it sounds more like Nu)
ON STAR: (politely) Pardon?
JAVIER: Nu
ON STAR: Pardon?
JAVIER: NU!
ON STAR: …Slower please.
JAVIER: Nuuuuuu
ON STAR: Pardon?
JAVIER: NU!
ON STAR: (pause) …Slower please.

This four word dialogue lasted nearly 5 minutes.

ON STAR: Ok. You’re directions will continue when you return to the planned route.

Sure this provides some necessary comic relief at Javi’s expense, but the whole thing can become rather annoying.  After finally tiring of this voice you may decide to cancel the route altogether by pressing the phone button.  You are greeted by a sound effect and the voice saying “On star ready.”  You tell it “Cancel route.”  This is where it becomes like that friend who realizes they are annoying and that you don’t really want to hang out with them anymore, but all they really wanted was to be liked.  It says, and I am not making this up…

ON STAR:  Do you wish to cancel your route?  Say yes or no.
DRIVER: Yes.
ON STAR: (slowly and with a sigh)… Route canceled…

It’s that sighing bit that gets you!  You can hear the feeling of rejection in its voice.  For a moment I want to say, “I didn’t mean it that way.  Look, we can still be friends.”  But then I realize I am being totally moronic and that it’s just a computer voice.

So that’s how we roll, town to town, in a van and a truck guided by a monotonous computer voice that may or may not have our best interest at heart.  Oh man, I just missed the turn.

ON STAR: Make a safe and legal U-turn.