A peaceful Sunday shoot-out

Today I went out to take Stan on a peaceful Sunday ride.  This turned into quite the predicament.  As I was grooming the dirtiest horse ever, I noticed there seemed to be an excessive amount of traffic on the little one-lane road I would be riding along for a mile to get to the riding arena (since I can't ride in the woods till the new year due to hunting season).  Hmm, Sunday traffic is awful different around here.  So I hop on and we head out despite it.  Stan handled all the traffic beautifully.  A lot of the cars didn't.  I was screamed at, honked, at, and given many a dirty look.

Arriving to the area with the big-scary-good-for-nothing trash bin where Stan always gets nervous the cars are thicker than ever.  Greeeatttttttt.  He was doing really well though and was seriously going to walk by the big-scary bin.  And then this woman comes out of the church about 25 yards ahead of us wearing the most offensively bright turquoise Christmas vest (come on, woman, turquoise isn't even a Christmas color!).  Cue: Stan freak out.  Ears pricked.  Neck arched.  Nostrils blowing.  Body stiffening.  Back end scooching in reverse.  Body pivoting into the road.  Me urging him.  Me failing.  Me yelling at vest-lady, "Your vest is too bright!  He is afraid of the bright color!"  Cars getting angry.  Me leaping off frightened horse.  Frightened horse still freaked.  Me stalking towards the offending vest-lady in agitation since she was barring my path.  Vest-lady speaks: "Where do you live?!  You need to go home now!"  Good grief!  What a bitch!  As if the vest wasn't enough...  People in cars yell and curse.  I get Stan off the road and into the church parking lot.  Vest-lady continues to accost me: "Where did you come from?  Where do you live?  You can't be here!  You need to go home now!"  Me thinking of a million smart come backs,  thoroughly agitated and confused with vest-lady.  *confused look*  Vest-lady: "There is a man on the loose in the woods over there *points behind us* with a high-powered rifle.  He's on the loose and on a rampage!  They rerouted all traffic from the highway (a two-lane) over here!  You need to go home!"  Hmm, well, this is curious.  Good thing I didn't actually follow my notion to ride on that trail today since hunters aren't out on Sundays...  That vest still sucks.  *Stan is nomming happily on grass; vest-lady gets in her car to leave not waiting on me to speak*

Well, brilliant.  Crazy man with a gun is on the loose, I'm stuck here because of traffic and hesitation to ride anywhere near that wood line.  Juuuust brilliant.

I ended up calling Jack's wife Vicki to "escort" me home.  It went well and [obviously] I wasn't shot/run-over/etc.  Little freaky.  But makes for an amusing after-the-fact anecdote, no?

And Stan, by the way, was convinced this was the greatest ride ever...  I walkz down buzee road.  I iz gud boy for all zee sillee carz and angree pepulz.  I no run awayz from scuree trash monsturr.  Brite colur scarz me.  Mom getz little mad and then getz off me.  I eat nummy grassez.  Mom takz me to more nummy grassez.  I eat.  Nom, nom, nom.  Ladee comez and followz me while I walkz like a gud boy all zee way home.  Short 2 mile ride at a walk with a grass eating intermission, yep, what horse wouldn't like that?