This is the story of the time I got lost in Denver. Getting lost is one thing, but getting lost in a big city is disastrous. My brother, sister, cousin and I set out on an adventure to explore Colorado. Matt, my cousin, had never been anywhere other than Texas, so we wanted to show the city in action. Maybe it was my aleatory instinct, maybe it was my ambitious spirit, or maybe it was my harebrained decision making; whatever it was, it was a bad idea. When Matt first arrived to Colorado he said, “Can we do something to make my summer memorable?” from the point on I wanted to impress my cousin and wanted to take him to Denver. Not long after that we took a mini road trip. The music was blaring, junk food was being devoured and excitement was absorbing all four of us. There were no adults and we were on our own. Because I was the oldest, I took charge and drove my dad’s little blue car. As soon as we hit the interstate, a feeling of freedom struck us. I was confident with my driving and knew the shops and places I was going to take him. There were no doubts in my mind. But suddenly, bam! Rush hour hits. It was probably easier to launch a rocket into space than it was to maneuver through Denver rush hour traffic.
At first I tried going with the flow and not letting my insecurities show. Little by little I started losing my cool. I was yelling at the cars in front of me, although they could not hear me. My palms were sweaty; cars kept cutting me off, almost causing numerous accidents. I was convinced that people on the interstate were either maniacs or had a death wish. When someone almost sideswiped my car at eighty miles per hour, it was a sign that I had to get off the interstate. I took the first exit I could get to, which happened to only be about ten miles south of where we intended to be. My mind was racing; I was trying to focus on where we were going. There were ominous men walking around. There were people shirtless, showing off multiple tattoos, people walking around without shoes on, and then there were people begging for money. I was terrified, and just wanted to get away from all the strange people. Trying to leave the sinister town, I took a left, a right, then another left, after a few turns, I forgot where I came from. I pulled into a restaurant to put myself together.
Shaking with fear, I was sitting at a table in Burger King in an unknown city. My sister, who was sitting next to me, was rubbing my back as tears ran down my face. Flashes of the edifices covered with graffiti filled my mind. How could I manage to get lost? I knew what I had to do, I had to swallow my pride and call my mom. With my shaky voice I asked her how to get home. To my surprise she was not upset, she was more worried about our safety than my stupidity. With the help of my ingenious mother, we returned home with in the next couple hours. I have never felt my heart beat as fast as it did when I was sitting in the restaurant hopeless, apprehensive, and cynical.

Ever since the day I was lost in Denver, I always take extra precautions when I go somewhere. I make sure I always have a map. Truly, there is not a worse feeling than being in a mysterious place that you have never been before. Honestly, it took a couple of months before I was ready to go to Denver again.