Vagabond's story underneath this has reminded me...
My great-grandmother moved here from Ireland, long time ago. Family legend has it that she went shopping one day then, when getting a taxi home, forgot her address.

Apparently after "driving around for a while to see if she recognised anything" she told the taxi driver "take me to the pub and see if anyone there knows where I live"

:D
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Tue 26 Mar 2013, 13:41, 2 replies)

It's the sensible option.
After a 15-hour hitch into darkest (I mean it) Wales to look for "Jim" (that's all we knew his name to be), at about midnight my mate's rather wonderful idea was to go into the local pub and ask if anyone knew him.

Someone did, and gave us a lift to his house.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 26 Mar 2013, 13:59, closed)

I apprently once had a conversation in a similar vien
with a hotel receptionist in Hamburg.

"May I help you sir?"

"cant member whish room im in"

"Zat is no problem, vat iss your name please?"

"Huh?"

"tell me your name, unt I vill look up ze room number"

"Uh. I'll be over there on the sofa. Gnite"
(username failed moderation, Tue 26 Mar 2013, 15:55, closed)