What the @#*($*# Were You Thinking?

Potential Wise Saying for the Day: "It's far easier to forgive an enemy after you've got even with him." ~Olin Miller

In an effort of being a good mom and possibly winning one of these someday, I ventured into another state to take my daughter to a locally performed version of a Broadway hit musical. In the process almost hit some people with my car. OK, I didn't actually almost hit them perse' , I almost hit their minivan--while I was going almost 20 miles per hour. Because it was peeing down rain. Because I was about to take an erroneous exit. Because the Indiana highway system stinks.

One would think that, after spending 10 years in the midst of Houston traffic, navigating my way around with 4 million people -- 80% of whom are what a more prejudiced person might call "foreigners"-- that I would have experienced and overcome all possible Interstate Exit Scenarios. But no, Indiana wins the award for Most Confusing Use Of Concrete.

Keep in mind that Indiana is known for stunningly non-viable ideas. For example, New Harmony was a combo failure--started by a group who believed, in 1814, that the return of Jesus Christ was imminent--so they bought land on which to live simply and perfectly until the Big Day. After 10 years of waiting, they moved back to Pennsylvania apparently to be closer to this and these as oppose to these, some of which--I kid you not--are named after major drug companies.

And speaking of bad ideas, during the first two decades of the 2oth century, Indiana was the Manufacturing Center for the largest variety of failed vehicles in the history of mankind. Just four of the 200 names you have never heard of, unless you are a total car geek or my husband, according to my daughter's textbook on U.S. States are: Duesenburg, Auburn, Stutz, and Maxwell.

Most recently Indiana has become the most famous home of the totally uncool Indianapolis 500, according to Al "I'll Be Famous for Something" Gore.

Indiana has also taken the same intrepid approach to their interstate exits, branching several off at once, not really telling you where you are headed until you find yourself lost among the innards of their not-quite-revived downtown region which apparently consists of the entire state.

So it was, that at one of these double/triple peel off exits, I realized I was about to be ejected into the vast labyrinth of streets located on the wrong side of the highway with little or no hope to cross until we had missed the start of the the next millenium. Oh, and did I mention that it was torrentially raining?

As I tried to ease myself back into the next peel off exit lane, a Hunter Green Minivan comes up behind me and HONKS the entire time it passes me. In reality, I might have been in line to hit it, but I was ahead of her, with my blinker on to move over. On, and did I mention I was AHEAD OF HER?

Well, I took the proper peel off exit, even though it was poorly marked (So there! Indiana DOT!) and followed the now Angry Hunter Green Minivan to the Derby Dinner Playhouse to see the ex-Broadway musical presently performed by talented Indianians. We pulled in right behind them. I thought about parking next to them but thought better of it. Which was probably good.

The crowd of youthful, and apparently fashionable young people in the form of students were already entering the theater. For some strange, fateful reason the members of the Angry Hunter Green Minivan filed up to the line about the same time as we. I know they were members of said van because they all, from the 70-year-old grandma with bottle-bottom glasses, and the 40-something-year-old female driver with bottle-bottom glasses--and even their eyeglass-less 8-year-old boy stared angrily at me as they marched in front of Meghan and I through the door. They continued to propel the Evil Eye back through their skulls as they waited in front of us to purchase tickets. As I stepped up to do my little theater business, the bottle-bottomed eyeglass-wearing driver-mom stood just to my right with her newly gathered posse, openly and angrily gesturing in my direction.

If I had been a bigger person, I would have marched right up to her and apologized. Or I might have offered to buy them lunch. Or stopped them in the parking lot as we left and said something redemptive. But I didn't.

And as I left, I noticed she had a Christian "fish" sticker on her Angry Hunter Green Minivan. I, on the other hand, have a leftist "Life is good" on mine.

I might have gotten more grace had I cut in front of a pagan saab.

Beepbeep at marcyjoybryan@gmail.com