Not so magical mystery trip by Bill Kay

It all started out so straightforwardly. And, I suppose, ended straightforwardly. But in between was a bizarre road trip that just reminded that, after umpteen vacations and living here for two and a half years, I can still get caught out by the complexities of the LA road system.
The plan was to attend a journalists' meeting at the Metropolitan Water Board offices next to Union Station. It's a mess round there, and the first time we made several missteps, but we'd been before and knew the routine. You get to the front of Union Station, turn to the right and go round the back of the Water Board building to the underground parking lot.
But, having not made the trip lately, I consulted my new best pal, the map application on my iPhone. I entered Union Station and it helpfully told me to go down Pasadena Freeway and take the 5 south to Mission Street, just a mile or so down the road. The traffic wasn't too busy but, this being just before 6pm, it was the rush hour and the regular commuters weren't taking prisoners. Fine.
So, off the slip road, turn right on Mission and right on Cesar Chavez back into downtown. Then left on Vignes.
This didn't look very familiar, but it seemed like we were approaching from the back of the station, not too much of a problem, minor adjustment maybe.
So I went into the approach road, round in a circle and out again, not onto Vignes but a strange little open space which should have set alarm bells ringing. One exit said No Entry but the next seemed OK though (or maybe because) it had no sign saying where it led.
That, though I naturally didn't realise it at the time, was the point of no return. It led into a one-way channel with concrete walls on either side. Other cars were using it, which was reassuring and by now there was no way out. I thought it might lead back to Vignes or Cezar Chavez and the worst would be that I would have to start again.
But this little rat run went on. And on. And on. And on.
After a while I noticed we were travelling alongside a freeway, which I correctly guessed to be the 10, and we looked to be going east, out of town. But there was no turn-off, no way out.
I have checked the map - masochism is my middle name - and I calculate we went 25 miles before finding a turnoff.
Everything seemed upside down. I found Del Mar Boulevard, which I know a little bit, and took that without realising I was going south instead of north. We nearly got down to the 60 before correcting that mistake and eventually pulled into the side in San Gabriel to check the iPhone map. With touching innocence, I trusted it to take us over to Alhambra where we thought we might have a Chinese meal - the journalist meeting would have started by now and we were on to Plans B, C, D and E.
It directed us back to the 10 and recommended going back west for a few miles then north. Looked good - until I mistakenly took the eastbound ramp.
"Ah, there's an exit for Rosemead Boulevard, Route 19, I know that," I cried as if I were foraging through the Amazon jungle.
We took that and it did indeed take us to what I might loosely call civilisation. We swapped our Chinese meal in Alhambra for a Thai meal in east Pasadena, at a restaurant I'd been meaning to try for years. It wasn't a bad meal, not particularly memorable, but the important thing was that I knew where I was. Home was only a ten-minute ride away. We had been in a huge circle, the meeting was lost - and I learned to be more precise about telling a computerised map where I wanted to go.