Today, I decided to infuse my frog-loving son with some culture. I took him to a theater to see a production of Annie. The show was great, but the trip getting there was an epic adventure.
The theater was pretty much in Timbuktu. It was about an hour away from where I live, in a place that I was completely unfamiliar with. As luck would have it, our way was blocked. The sign read: "Road closed one mile ahead." A detour sign pointed toward an alternate route.
Okay, I thought. No problem. I'll just follow the signs, and I'm sure I'll figure it out.
I followed the signs down one road, and then down another. Finally, the detour sign pointed down a road that clearly looked like it was closed. Typical Cincinnati signage. But I followed it anyway.
"Mama," my son said. "I don't think you're supposed to go down here."
"Sure I am," I said as I passed by the road baracades. "The sign said I should go this way."
I weaved in and out through orange barrels and pylons, bumping along the dirt road. Nobody else was on it, so I really didn't care.
"Mama," my son said, sounding real nervous. "This isn't right. I don't want to be here."
I looked in the rear view mirror. "Okay, buddy, I'll turn around."
So I did. And I double checked to make sure the detour sign was pointing down the road I had just been on. It was.
I went back to the original road and decided to try my luck going down it. All was well for about two miles. Then the barriers were up, and the road became a dirt path.
"Oh good," I said. "Another off road experience."
I plowed through that thing, hoping to find a side street to turn off.
"Mama!" my son said. "What are you doing?"
"Going to the theater. What does it look like I'm doing?"
The poor kid was ready to have a heart attack.
To make a long story short, I did manage to get to the theater by finding a side street and zig zagging through the town. And I did it with two minutes to spare. Am I good, or what?
(Note to self: I need to get a smart phone or GPS system!)