Wait…That’s Not How That Works?

I have a confession to make.

Every so often, life taps me on the shoulder, laughs just a little, and says, “Kiki…bless your heart.”

Sometimes I believe I’m an intelligent person. I raised two children who somehow survived adulthood. I’ve navigated cancer, a flipped Jeep, Spartan races, PTA meetings, and enough office politics to qualify for a minor in diplomacy.

Yet every now and then I discover I’ve been carrying around a belief that turns out to be spectacularly…wrong.

Take hurricane evacuation routes. I passed one of these blue and white sign beauties on a pole today. My eyes caught it at a red light. I burst out laughing.

For years—and I do mean years—I honestly believed that if you followed those blue hurricane evacuation signs all the way to the coast, there would be boats waiting to ferry everyone to safety.

It made perfect sense to me.

“Hurricane coming? Head toward the water. The boats are there.”

I pictured an organized operation. Coast Guard. Ferries. Maybe someone with a clipboard checking names before waving us aboard. We’d all sail off into the sunset while the hurricane did its thing.

Imagine my surprise when someone finally explained that an evacuation route is actually the road that gets you away from the coast.

Away.

Not toward.

Apparently, the giant body of water producing the hurricane isn’t where they’re trying to send you.

A few years ago Ernie and I had just finished a delish lunch on our way from the Tampa airport to our resort and were updating the GPS with the address. I spotted the Hurricane Route sign. I said “Ern you can turn there. That’s the way to the coast.”Ernie looked up and straight into my eyes. He said calmly…”Wait. You think there are boats waiting to pick you up in a hurricane?” My heart sank and in that moment I had never felt so blonde and naive. Instead of denying it I told the truth. “That’s right!” I declared. We giggled and drove towards the Gulf.

Once I admitted my hurricane theory out loud, I started wondering how many other things I’ve confidently believed without ever questioning them. It turns out my brain has been quietly writing its own instruction manual for decades.

The funny thing is, I don’t mind being wrong anymore.

Life has taught me that asking the embarrassing question is far better than spending another twenty years believing there’s a fleet of rescue boats waiting at the end of Long Island or in that case the west coast of Florida.

Besides, these little moments remind me that we all have gaps in our knowledge. Most people are just better at hiding them.

Me?

I write blog posts about them.

If my occasional misunderstanding gives someone else permission to laugh at themselves—or admit they’ve been quietly believing something equally ridiculous—then I’d say we’re all headed in the right direction.