Let me tell you about the time I tried to explain "relative location" to my kids during a cross-country road trip – and accidentally became a student of everyday American geography. We were somewhere in rural Iowa when our GPS lost signal (thanks, spotty Midwest coverage), and my youngest panic-whispered, "Are we… lost lost?" That’s when I realized: knowing how to describe where you are in relation to stuff people actually recognize is a survival skill.
Here’s the thing: Relative location isn’t just a textbook term. It’s the reason Midwesterners give directions like “Turn left where the Dairy Queen used to be” and New Yorkers say “Two blocks past the bodega with the cat.” I learned this the hard way when Google Maps once told me a gas station was “0.3 miles northeast” of my Airbnb. Cool – but the handwritten note taped to the fridge said, “Walk toward the giant peeling billboard for Mountain Dew. If you hit the llama farm, you’ve gone too far.” Guess which one got me there faster?
My turning point: During that Iowa detour, I defaulted to my old corporate job habit of overspecifying (“We’re 42 miles southwest of Des Moines!”). My 8-year-old blinked at me like I’d spoken Klingon. Then my husband – a guy who once navigated an entire Colorado camping trip using only brewery logos as landmarks – shrugged and said, “We’re between Casey’s pizza joint and that church with the pumpkin patch. Backtrack to Casey’s, then head toward the water tower shaped like a corn cob.” Lightbulb moment.
What works (and what doesn’t):
- Landmark over coordinates: Saying “It’s across from the Target with the Starbucks” > “Latitude 40.7128° N.” (Unless you’re talking to a park ranger. Maybe.)
- Know your audience: My Chicago cousin understands “three L stops from Wrigley.” My Nevada aunt needs “where they filmed that Bon Jovi desert scene in the ‘80s.”
- Hybrid approach: I now screenshot Google Maps and text locals “What’s the can’t-miss thing near X?” before trips. Last month in Nashville, “It’s behind the mural where everyone takes TikTok dances” saved me 20 minutes of GPS arguing.
Oh – and rookie mistake alert: Early on, I assumed everyone knew major highways. Told a gas station clerk in Arizona we were “just off I-10.” He deadpanned, “Honey, everything’s ‘just off I-10’ out here. You gotta be more… specific specific.” Now I lead with nearby fast-food chains (love them or hate them, you always know where the McDonald’s arches are).
Try this next time: When giving directions, pause and ask: “If I erased all street names, what would stand out here?” Maybe it’s the house with 27 garden gnomes. The pothole that’s been coned off since 2019. The “SORRY WE’RE OPEN!” diner sign. Those are the pins in America’s real-life map.
So yeah, relative location? It’s less about compasses and more about paying attention to what makes a place weird or memorable. Next time you’re waffling between Waze and a stranger’s advice at a rest stop… go with the one that mentions the pink flamingo yard. Trust me.