A Sign from Jim Beam

I don't normally drink. I mean, since becoming a Sunday school teacher and my stress issues developed, I have started drinking more. But still not on the Penn State College Freshman Level.

Last fall, some friends and I went on a haunted hay ride. Before we went on this haunted hay ride, we taste tested some homemade hard apple cider (for those of you in the south, this is more commonly referred to as MOONSHINE. We were dunking homemade donuts into moonshine and then decided to go on a hay ride.)

So, we get on the haunted hay ride. It's no secret that I frighten easily. And that went I am scared I either a) run, b) pee myself, or c) both. (Ahh, my not-so-secret shame.) I am not sure why I thought getting drunk and going on a haunted hay ride was a good idea for someone like me (aka someone liable to pee themselves and then have to marinate in my own waste during a 3 hour car ride back to Chicago) but I did it anyhow.

We go into the corn field, and some dude jumps out dressed like Ichabod Crane, and I get up all frightened. The one rule to hay rides (drunken, haunted, or otherwise) is YOU DO NOT STAND UP, IDIOT.

I literally fall off the wagon.

The whole hay ride is silent, and I am laying on my back on the ground, looking up at the wagon. And a little old lady peaks over the side at me and says "Honey, I think this may be a sign. You literally fell off the wagon."

Yup.