text: Last week I was driving to an office party for the holidays and my GPS decided the quickest route to the destination was through a part of downtown I didn’t know. That’s what I get for blindly following computer software. It may calculate the drive time and the shortest distance between two points but it doesn’t factor in the relative safety of the neighborhood. Once I realized what was going on, I was already too far into a really bad area, to just turn around. I decided to play it cool and hope for the best. With any luck, the route would soon lead me away from the urban blight. Then I was stopped by a traffic light. A homeless man was standing on the curb holding his cardboard sign. They always seem to pick a spot where it’s too difficult to avoid eye contact. As a general rule, I don’t roll down the window or open my door in places like that. I’ve seen too many mugging and robbery videos to risk giving away a few bucks. For that reason, I tend to avoid reading the depressing messages scrawled on their signs. Strangely enough, I felt compelled to read his. It seemed like it might be prudent. “You’ll be dead very soon.” I actually snorted. If he was hungry or jonesing for a fix, he sure wasn’t going to score any pity cash from me with that ‘uplifting message’. The naysayer of doom on the sidewalk would definitely benefit from less caustic signage, I thought to myself. The light changed and I eased off the brake. Frankly, I was anxious to get out of there. His message was downright creepy and foreboding. Perhaps he hoped to be arrested for making malicious threats and receive ‘three hots and a cot’ at the nearest police precinct. At that point, I didn’t care. I was happy to witness him fade away in my rearview mirror. I don’t know if it’s deliberate or not, but once you get stopped by one light, they all seem to catch you. Maybe they’re programmed to make it impossible to drive through them without having to stop constantly. If so, it’s a gas tax conspiracy. I can’t prove any of that of course, but it never seems to fail. When I pulled up to the next four-way intersection to wait on the light, another street person was standing there. With recent economic downturns, the neighborhood appeared to be overrun with vagrants and ‘lost souls’. This guy was just as nondescript as the previous one. At least he wasn’t holding a threatening sign to freak out passing motorists. I studied his layered clothes and grizzly features. For the briefest moment I thought he might be the same individual I’d saw four blocks earlier (but I knew that couldn’t be). Logistically there was no way he could’ve traveled that distance as fast as my car. To be perfectly honest, I only remembered a few details about him. It was his sign I couldn’t ignore or forget. Beyond that, they could have been identical twins, or nothing alike. Before the light changed, the guy reached down to the ground and picked up his very own cardboard note. While somewhat different in wording, it’s message was no less startling. Honestly, it was more so for one specific reason. “The end is near for you Bill Holland. Repent.” I don’t mind telling you that I was stunned, and in utter disbelief. As you might have guessed, my name IS ‘Bill Holland’ and I had no idea who that guy was; or how he came to expect me to see it! It’s not like I regularly drive through that area or that anyone knew I was going to be stopped by the traffic lights there. The dark details of his sign were incredibly startling and specific. They were tailored just for me. I was so shocked that I didn’t notice when the light changed to green. The car behind me honked in impatience. I managed to put my focus back to the task at hand of driving through the ‘hood’. I squealed my tires and roared out of there like I was in a death race. Despite my accelerated pace, I only made it past a couple more intersections before the next signal turned red. I debated blowing through it and going full throttle until I made it to a safer place but there was too much cross traffic. I had to stop. I was greatly relieved to see the whole block was vacant. There was no one visible on the street corner at all. No pimps. No drug dealers. No prostitutes. Regardless, there was still an ominous message waiting for me, just the same. An unattended cardboard sign was propped up against the brick wall of a nearby building. I tried to resist reading it but my curious eyes betrayed me. “You took a wrong turn. Go back.” That was the LAST thing I’d ever do. I had no intention of driving back past the previous two sign holders. I wanted to put as much distance between myself and them as I could. I cursed the phone app for taking me on such a bizarre journey but when the light changed, I impulsively diverted from the specified GPS directions. I took an immediate left turn away from the planned route. As soon as I did, the phone started ‘redirecting’. “Shut up!”; I shouted at the damned inanimate object making my life a living hell. (of course it told me to take the next three right turns to rejoin my original path). I didn’t care at that point. I was anxious to avoid any more threatening messages by strangers holding up handwritten signs. Despite my best efforts to avoid falling any deeper into the twilight-zone like conspiracy, that’s exactly what happened. I was feeling mildly rebellious by defying the cheerfully-voiced GPS directions when my car headlights fell upon a number of reflective street barricades. The road was completely blocked! My premature smugness was replaced with frustration and dismay. I had to turn around but nothing said I had to return the same way I’d came. As I arrived back at the intersection, I could hardly believe my eyes. The other two directional choices were also barricaded! They were NOT blocked before. I was sure of that. Someone was messing with me. The sinister author of the last sign was going to get his way after all. I had no choice but to drive back toward the unknown sidewalk provocateurs. My heart raced as I felt like I was falling into their well-laid trap. The unattended sign was no longer there. That made sense I suppose. I was now headed back where it had directed me to go. One by one, all of the cross streets were now blocked off. I was on a one-way trip, headed toward an uncertain fate. I thought about stopping the car but there was a certain measure of artificial security in being inside a locked vehicle. Slowly I crept back toward the source of my tension. I was tempted to call 9-1-1 but what would I have said? That some creepy homeless people with cardboard signs were menacing me in an ‘urban barricade conspiracy’? It would have sounded as crazy as it actually was; and I didn’t even know what road I was on anymore. I’d long since shut off the GPS device and all the street signs were either missing or covered with spray paint. Drums were on fire in the alleys. Cars were up on blocks. The shell of buildings all around looked as dangerous from a structural standpoint as from the desperate individuals inside. The confines of the car was my safety blanket. The second sign holder was still there on the corner; waiting. When he saw me, he changed position to align with my vantage point in the car. His sign now warned that I was about to ‘meet my doom’. I checked to confirm my doors were locked for the 20th time. I scanned the streets for the unexpected. I was alarmed to witness him drop his sign and start walking directly toward me! Slowly he faded from view in my mirror. I was only one sign holder away from making it out of the area; or possibly approaching the cunning trap they had waiting for me. The first guy was leaned up against a building near the spot where I’d originally saw him. It was the end of the line. I knew it and they knew it. The barricades were across the road and I had nowhere left to go. The homeless guy started pulling off his knit hat and overcoat in some gesture I didn’t understand. Then he stepped out of the filthy coveralls he wore. I honestly didn’t know what to expect next. I had my foot on the gas pedal and was about to gun right through the road barrier if he came toward me when he started peeling off a fake beard and wig. I thought me eyes were playing tricks on me. It was one of my managers from work! He held up a brand new cardboard note: “Welcome to the party, Bill! Surprise...