Angry Dads and One-Way Streets (It's good to avoid both)

Okay, I've been debating on whether I should post this story.  I mean, it really doesn't make me look great, and may possibly lead you to judge me.....BUT on other hand, it's probably too good not to share.

Hmmm, looking bad vs. good story?  Since we're all about keeping it real around here, let's go with the story. 

Disclaimer:  I love Jesus.  I want to be more like Him.  There are, however, many, many, many times a day where I fall short, and my pride/impatience/general road-rage-y-ness gets the best of me.  Especially the road-rage-y-ness. 

The other day, John took AG to the park for me, while I ran to Target.  We were leaving town the next day, and I had fallen into Sherri-super-stress mode, as I had procrastinated everything I needed to do until the very last minute.  (Also known as, having a toddler and never having any time to get things done). 

I realized right before leaving the house that John left the diaper bag at home.  "OH NO!"  I thought to myself.  "What if he has a diaper "situation" on the swing set?"  (I mean, AG, not John.  He doesn't have diaper situations. Anymore. Don't worry). 

I decided to run the diaper bag over to the park, and then be on my merry little way to Target.  I dropped off the bag, and then, in an effort to save time "failed to notice" a one-way street sign on a little side street near my house.  Thinking I would just cut through, and get up to the main road more quickly. 

(I may or may not have a slight tendency to think road signs/rules don't apply to me. It is a problem, and I'm working on it.  Kinda.)

I turn onto the one-way street, and immediately notice a dad walking towards the middle of the road.  So he can block my car.  He looks angry. 

Did I mention that I hate confrontation? 

I roll down my window and prepare to tell him, I'm so sorry, I wasn't really paying attention, it will never happen again, etc.   And this happens:

Angry Dad:  Are you kidding me?!  Did you really just do that?!

Me:  Um, uh, s-s-sorry...I mean, uh....you're scary.

Angry Dad:  You clearly don't have children, because if you did, you would never endanger kids like this! 

Me (did he just question my parenting?  OH NO HE DIDN'T!):  Well, sir, your children are still about 100 yards away, and I believe I was going approximately 4 miles an hour making the turn.  So.........

Angry Dad:  Just get out of here!

Me:  (While bravely rolling up my window at the same time), IDIOT. 

Disclaimer:  Again, I am not proud of my response.  NOT at all what Jesus would do.  It was in fact, what worldly-minded Sherri would do.  I do not recommend this response to anyone.  And I cannot condone turning onto one-way streets to save time.

Even if you're in a hurry.

Even if everyone else in the neighborhood uses the very same street as a cut-through.
 
Ahem.

Anyway, about 10 minutes later, I'm still ticked.  Having conversations in my head with Angry Dad.  Thanking the Lord that I was in John's car and without AG--maybe if I see this guy around the neighborhood, he won't recognize me with my clever "different car and baby disguise." 

I call John to rant about it.  A few minutes into my story, he's all:  OH MY GOSH, Sherri!  NO YOU DIDN'T!

And I'm like, HEY!  You're supposed to be on my side!  Andy by the way, you cut through there all the time! 

Why yes.  Yes he does.  And JUST did.  About, oh, 5 minutes after I did. 

And this is what happened:

John sees Angry Dad come into the middle of the street to block him.  John politely veers around him to keep going.  Angry Dad BANGS ON THE SIDE WINDOW OF MY CAR.  John stops the car.

John:  DUDE!  What are you doing?!

Angry Dad:  Blah, blah, blah, kids, danger, blah, irresponsible, look at your baby in the backseat, how could you, guilt trip, blah.

John:  (While totally keeping his cool) Calm down, man.  You're embarrassing yourself. 

Drives away.  Oh how I love my husband.

Disclaimer:  Neither one of us is proud of having turned the wrong-way down a one-way street.  We promise we will not do it again.  At least for a few weeks. 

KIDDING.

(Although did I mention that now, Angry Dad knows both of our cars, AND our baby. Way to go, Dickens family).


Finally, in a third (and final) twist, I happened to tell my friend, Marie, this story.  A few days later, she emails me.  "Hey Sherri, remember Angry Dad?  Turns out that's my friend Bob."

Oops. 

Disclaimer:  Don't be like us.  We are impatient, rule-breaking drivers, not to mention very imperfect Christians.  I hope you'll cut us some slack.  Unless you're Angry Dad.  Who, hopefully, does not read this blog.