Since midnight, I have been hit up for directions on four separate occasions. I think that's a lot, considering I have been either sleeping or otherwise in my apartment for just under 12 of those 14 hours.

I was able to help the guy walking away from his destination of Bathurst Street, the couple looking for the Taste of Little Italy festival and the two teenage girls looking for the vintage shops in Kensington Market.

I failed the 20-somethings looking for the Duke of York pub in the Annex (for future ref, it's on Prince Arthur Ave. just east of the St. George subway).

The oddest directions experience lately came late one night when I was walking down Queens Park to College St. A car drives right beside me for several seconds on this otherwise deserted thoroughfare, mildly freaking me out (drive-by!! :) ). Then it stops just ahead of me.

Two South Asian women -- one middle-aged, one older -- are inside. They want to know how to get to York Mills (Hint: It was far to the north of where they were talking to me).

I tell them to take the Wellesley exit off Queen's Park just about 15 metres in front of them to the left, left back onto QP, go north to Bloor Street and ...

"That's too complicated," they told me.

Oh dear. :)