The first thing you should know about this park if you've never been there before is not to trust Map Quest. Ever. Being a fool, I didn't go to Google and look at the area on the map before I set out on a confusing odyssey to find this park. Ye ol' piece of junk Map Quest took me to West Boise Avenue, then to Londoner Way, then to West Williams St, which seems logical and great since the park is named Williams Park after all. Then, Williams turned onto Parkway and all I could see around me were older homes and no park. Turning around, I drove back across Williams to Londoner Way and still didn't see the park. Or a sign for the park. Turning around once more, mumbling about how much I hate Map Quest, I creeped down Williams looking for some sign of what I was starting to believe was an imaginary park. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bright gleam of color and my hopes rose, and then crashed. A backyard play set. That can't be the park. If it is, this must be the saddest public park in Boise.

That's when I noticed the inconspicuous parking lot to the right. The tiny parking lot to the right. And the equally small sign declaring Williams Park. Sure, Map Quest got me there, but I had to drive down the road at five miles an hour just to find it.

Stepping out of the Dupp Cruiser, a long, narrow, grassy plot of land, dotted with shade trees, stretched away before me. Still dubious about the whole trip, I set out down the path that kept going, and going, until a large play field materialized to my right and a hideous throwback to '70s architecture loomed to my left. As it turns out, the pointy roofed thing is the covered shelter and bathroom, which can be fought over on a first-come, first-serve basis.

Not capable of sudden flight

The park is just shy of eight acres, but it seems much bigger thanks to the sprawling layout. An irrigation canal splits the park in two, with open space and practice fields on one side and the other amenities such as the play sets, tennis courts, basketball courts, shelter and such on the other. A note to parents, the canal is open with lots of tall plants lining the banks on both sides. If your child's a hellion and doesn't listen, or what we call normal, you might want to be aware that there is water in it during the summer months. If you can't figure out why we're letting you know this, then maybe you should find another park to play at.

Not much better from this angle

All of the playground equipment is a little dated, but it's still in good shape and sure to keep your kids yelling for at least a few hours. As of right now, there are no swings at the park, which is lame. Massively lame. I mean a park isn't a park or a playground without swings. Come on, Parks and Rec, get the ol' head out. We'll see what happens this spring when new playground equipment is installed. According to the Parks and Rec Web site, the equipment is intended for kids between the ages of two to five, which seems silly since all the kids I know in that age range can be amused for days with a cardboard box and sidewalk chalk.

Way back in 1980, Darrell Leatham and his wife, Marian, donated the land the park sits on to the City. That was awful nice of them and I'm sure their accountant loved it. Of course, the politicians in office at the time were a tad stumped as to what to do with the land, so discussions were held, some town meetings, and presto! A new park was born.

Last summer when I strolled through the park, I noticed how busy it was. There were kids playing, families picnicking, and people walking their dogs. Speaking to some of the locals who were out enjoying our summer sunshine, I learned that the park is used for kid's soccer teams to practice and lots of other things. I also learned that when a park is situated in the middle of a subdivision, there's always going to be one douchebag that tries to make everyone else miserable.

When I explore these parks, I take my camera with me. My camera happens to be pretty big and a little fancy, which makes folks comment on it. Usually, I'm used to this, but when four separate people walk up to me within three minutes of each other and ask if I'm with the newspaper, I get a tad suspicious. The last fellow, a friendly older gentleman, was more than willing to talk to me about the park, the neighborhood, and the douchebag. Turns out that a guy that lives right next to the park keeps complaining about things in the park, like kids making noise. You know, the kind of noise kids make while playing. The current target of his douchiness is the basketball court. It seems that he doesn't like to hear dribbling and dunking when he's relaxing on his back patio while drinking the blood of baby ducks and twirling the ends of his black mustache (okay, we're not sure if he has a black mustache or not, but you get the image). His idea is simple. Since he doesn't like the noise, he thinks the City should relocate the basketball court from the perfectly fine spot it's presently in, to the other side of the park where they can take up an unnecessary chunk of the practice fields. Oh, and he thinks all of us, his fellow tax-payers, should pay for it. You might not agree, but on the official Jack Dupp Douchemeter this pegs out at a perfect ten. He's the kind of guy who will move behind a pig farm and then complain that it smells bad.

At the end of the day, who knows if he'll have his way or not, but it's nice to know that the art of douchebaggery is alive and well.

The pleasant gent who acted as my guide and local gossip source was also nice enough to point out that I had parked in what the locals refer to as the "soccer mom lot". According to him, most folks have a difficult time finding that lot, if they even know it's there. As it turns out, if I had taken West Boise Avenue to East Pennsylvania Street, then hooked a left on Myers Street, I would have come to a rather large sign proclaiming Williams Park to be at the end of E. Provident Drive. There, I would have been greeted by a big gate, a large monument sign, and the main parking area. In fact, had I just kept going on Parkway Drive I would have eventually ended up right here.

Dear Map Quest, I hate you.

The nefarious "soccer mom" lot