It was July 3rd and I was returning home from a business trip. My flight was late getting in and I was beyond ready to be done with the traveling. I left the Kansas City Airport parking lot to begin my lo-o-ong drive home. But almost as soon as I hit the highway, I was slowed to a crawl by a huge traffic jam.
Great.
The sun was setting and I had just endured a delayed flight on a packed aircraft. Even without the road delays, there was still a two-hour commute home from my current location. I had not even crossed the state line from Missouri into Kansas, yet. It looked like this was shaping up to be the perfect end to the perfect trip.
As I was creeping along in bumper to bumper traffic, hoping for an off-ramp and searching the iPhone for an alternate route, I noticed a huge billboard in the distance. Fireworks! Hey, tomorrow is Independence Day! And there are many more pyrotechnics products to be had in Missouri than there are Kansas. Maybe, I could make a detour and work this to my advantage…
I finally reached an exit and pulled into the gravel parking lot of an aging, red-painted, metal warehouse. I walked inside grinned an evil grin. It was pyrotechnic Nirvana! The selections went on forever and, lo and behold, I still had some cash money left over from my trip. So, I proceeded to fill a shopping basket with all kinds of es’plody goodness. When I check-out at the cashier, my purchases completely filled up a brown paper shopping bag, with money left over! So, of course, I had to go back for more…
Three hours later, I pull into my driveway. My daughter meets me at the door:
“What’s in the bags Daddy?” she asks.
“Fireworks, sweetie,” I answer.
“But what are those long sticks coming out of the top of the bag, Daddy?”
“Ummm, bottle-rockets, honey,” I say.
“But Daddy, aren’t bottle-rockets illegal here?”
“Why, yes honey. Yes they are.”
(Notice to the BATF: By the time this is posted, I will have relocated to another State and my children will have been placed in the Witness Protection Program. And, did I mention I am allergic to incarceration?)
Lesson to the Children: Always obey the Law… unless Dad is there to supervise!
[This story came from GeekDad Patrick, whose last name is withheld for his own sake. He has learned his #BadDad lesson, and promises never to do it again.]
Share your #BadDad stories with us in the coments, or on social media!
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