I learned something this weekend.

People were not blessed with the same instincts that animals were given. I know, last week I talked about dogs, but this animal observation was totally different.

We, the people, seem to be missing that internal instinct that tells us where we are going. My roommates and I were en route to Ledges State Park for a fall camp out.

Due to packing, some people having to leave early in the morning and some people picking up others who were joining us late, we somehow ended up taking three cars.

I was the lead car, and accidentally lead-footed it ahead of the rest of the caravan, arriving at Ledges close to 6:25 p.m. I waited … and waited. As the clocked ticked, I wondered where the rest of the group could possibly be?

Usually, I am the instinctless one who loses my way and arrives at the agreed destination frustrated, and a good hour and a half late. I would never survive as a homing pigeon.

This time I had tried something new: I paid attention to the signs — and followed them! It worked quite well.

However, cars number two and three didn’t know if I had caught the signs, didn’t make a left turn when needed and kept their motors running the wrong way. Isn’t it great how your friends just assume you won’t go the right way?

After a 20-minute wait, I remembered we had forgotten two very important items on my desk: the flashlight and the kerosene lamp. Figuring I would see their cars on the way in, I headed back to fetch the forgotten items.

By this time, darkness was ensuing, so I stepped on it. No sign of my friends on the way home. Still nothing on the drive back. But when I arrive at Ledges for the second time that evening, lights in hand, they were all circling their cars, wondering where I could be.

If the five of us had been geese or ducks flying south for the winter, I shudder to think of the results of any of us getting separated from the traditional “V.”

Most likely, we wouldn’t make it to the south, we’d end up sticking out December through March in Iowa, wearing lots of sweaters.

How do birds and animals know where to go when it’s time to migrate? Our lack of instincts proved to be a problem for us.

Couple this problem with the human instinct to flock to where the rest of the world is hanging out, and you may be able to guess what happened. By the time we all were congregated together at last, no camp sites were left. Rats!

Now, at this point some of you are saying to yourself, “I have no problem with directions. I can always find my way around.” If you are one of those, I won’t expect you to understand.

I’ve met people like you, and I envy you. The experience is a world I have never known — getting places on time, driving down a street only once before finding the correct turn, refusing to carry a map.

Let’s change the name of Catt Hall! (No, this isn’t a random protest statement, it’s actually part of the editorial.)

People have a difficult enough time finding their way around this campus when they first come to Iowa State. Why do we insist on making it harder for them by giving our buildings such generic names?

Perhaps generic is the wrong word, but when I go to other universities, I see buildings named Journalism and Mass Communication Building or English Department. I know right away what is inside the building and if I’m looking in the right area.

At ISU we grace our buildings with the names of what I assume are the big givers of the green bill, which results in buildings bearing names like Hamilton Hall and Ross Hall.

As a new student, who knows what kind of classes happen inside? Sometimes it is labeled in small letters underneath the name, but those little words are often left unread.

People do not have great instincts; give them all the help we can! Stop the Catt Hall debate and name it the LAS Advising Center, isn’t that a better description of the structure anyway?

Also, to throw us off even further, the university changes names we already had learned, and now we must adjust to something new, like the transformation of P.E.B. to the Forker Building. Confusion!

Just because we don’t have the internal compass animals enjoy, that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun getting lost. It just gives people one more way to be daring in their everyday life. Live on the edge — don’t carry a map!

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Joanne Roepke is a senior in journalism and mass communication from Aurora.