Way to be assertive pal, not many people take the initiative to solve problems. Most people wait around for someone else to do that for them. I hope you enjoyed the booze and the dancing.

I too was caught in a traffic jam at the mouth of the tunnel. My tunnel was a 2 mile long one that ran under a mountain in West Virginia. Luckily I stopped right at the authorized vehicle only turnaround space. Or perhaps unluckily.

I decided to use the turn around and I tried to head over the mountain. I was about 10 miles into this detour, in the middle of nowhere with only ramshackle houses at the base of the switchbacks when my five-month-old son began to cry inconsolably because he was hungry. As you know, this means he needs a bottle. I had a bottle warmer in the car, but it required being plugged into an outlet. Normally, this isn't a problem as there are rest stops along the way but 10 miles into no man's land on the side of a mountain, there aren't any rest stops, in fact as I found out there are no public places with outlets available at all. There was one church, and despite the old saying that the doors to the church are always open, it turns out they aren't.

With my sons cries getting more desperate, and me running out of options I decided I needed to knock on a door of the most "reputable" looking house I saw.

There was a house that looked freshly painted, and had two children and what looked to be their father sitting on the porch. I stopped and asked, "I know this is an odd question, but I have a five-month-old baby in the car and need to warm up a bottle, I have a mechanism to warm it but need to plug it in would you let me do that?"

The man on the porch said, in a very strong southern drawl, "let me ask the owner of the house," and he left inside.

"He says that's fine by him, you can come on in."

I climb the steps to the porch and at the top of the porch resting on a chair was a rifle sitting on either side of it were the two small children, they could not have been older than eight and five years old. Upon entering the home I saw at least five more rifles and shotguns scattered throughout the living room. Sitting on their large couch which took up most of the home were five adults. Two were women and three were young men -the three of which had their shirts off and were all staring at me in an unfriendly way. The women were looking at me with more curiosity. There was one Lazy-Boy chair that was occupied by the homeowner. He was about 60 years old and said, "come on in the outlets over there," and he pointed to the counter. Next to the outlet on the counter were at least 30 pill containers and a handgun. I plugged in the warmer and one of the younger guys asked, "how long that thing take?"

"About a minute," I responded.

I'm not a fan of guns, I'm certainly not a fan of guns in the hands of those that are heavily medicated. I'm certainly not a fan of guns left available to two small children.

Stopping at this home was perhaps the worst parenting decision I've ever made. In fact, there is no perhaps about it. While standing there I was sure I was putting myself and even worse, my son in danger. As it turns out though, they were nice enough to let me in their home and use their electricity and let me go.

I decided to head back to the tunnel and take my chances with the traffic jam. I stopped on the steps of the locked church and fed my son his bottle there. It was a glimpse into a type of lifestyle that is completely foreign to me.

When I got back to the tunnel, traffic had cleared. So, I suppose this is the story of a horrible decision that involves a tunnel, rather than an accomplishment involving one.