So, you want a true story? Let me tell you about the day I almost made what could’ve been the biggest mistake of my life.
My husband and I were on a road trip to South Dakota, enjoying the scenic routes, taking our time, and soaking in all the beauty. Mount Rushmore was the main destination, but my son had recommended we also visit Custer State Park, saying it was a great place to see buffalo and other wildlife. I couldn’t wait—I love animals in their natural habitat, far better than seeing them at the zoo! 
As we pulled into the parking lot, I immediately spotted a buffalo across the street, grazing near a campground. It was so close to the road that I thought, Wow, he must be friendly if he's allowed to hang out where all the campers are. That’s when an idea popped into my head: I should get a selfie with this majestic beast.
I got out of the car and made my way to the sidewalk. My heart raced as I waited for a break in traffic. The buffalo stood there, calm and massive, just grazing and I thought, how cool would this be to get a selfie with it?
I hesitated a couple of times, waiting for the perfect moment to dash across the street. Just as I bent my knees to make a run for it, my husband’s voice cut through the air like a thunderclap: “DON’T YOU DARE!”
Startled, I spun around to see him half out of the car, his face a mix of panic and disbelief. That’s when I noticed a park ranger across the street, slowly inching his truck toward the buffalo, shooing it away from the campground.
We went into the gift shop, my adrenaline still pumping. While I used the restroom, my husband struck up a conversation with the ranger. As I came back, I overheard the ranger say, “We haven’t seen any gorings this year.”
At first, I thought, Wow, no gorings? Lucky me, I got to see one! Out loud, I said, “That’s amazing—I saw one today!”
The look on my husband’s face said it all: I had no idea what “goring” meant. I thought it was a type of buffalo, like some rare breed I had been lucky enough to spot.
With a mix of patience and hilarity, my husband acted it out: hands as horns, charging motions, and a dramatic flip of imaginary prey into the air. I looked at him like what in the world are you doing! So I asked him what he was doing and he repeated the motions. That’s when it hit me—“goring” wasn’t a type of buffalo. It was what buffalo do when they attack. Oh my goodness, I felt so dumb. And that buffalo I had wanted to selfie with? Apparently, it was the most aggressive, buffalo, and they've had problems with him before. The ranger was moving it away for a reason.
I replayed the moment in my head over and over. What if I had made it across the street? What if I had gotten too close? A selfie wasn’t worth becoming the buffalo’s next target. Every time I thought about it, my heart raced thinking about what the outcome could've been, what my husband would've had to tell my kids and how in a split second I could've been in a life or death situation. My husband still teases me about it, saying he would’ve saved me by “taking that bison down.” Sure, honey. There's literally nothing he could've done. He probably would've gotten gored as well, as much as he thinks he would have stood up to that massive buffalo.
No selfie was taken that day, but I did leave the gift shop with a cute buffalo replica that sits on a mantle above our patio doors and a story I’ll never forget. 
My husband enjoys the different opportunities. He gets to tell this story to people he meets.