When in New York 
“Caro, do you even know how to read that?” Maggie asked me, her tone all bemused and very much an indication that she was humouring me. She does that a lot.
I scowled at her. “It’s a map, Mags. It can’t possibly be any more difficult than the Tempe bus lines.” Except it was. Granted, most of that was because I was not used to these streets like I was back home, and I had no idea where we were or where we were going.
Maggie, kindly, said nothing.
I decided a spell might be useful. It was sort of a tracking spell, but not – it took where you were and where you were going, and marked them on the map, with a little shimmering line to mark your route. It worked with bus maps, when I could get it to work. I hoped desperately I could get it to work this time, too.
A moment and a few murmured words later, I yelped and dropped the map as it caught fire.
“Well,” Maggie said mildly, “I suppose that could have gone better.”