Those of you who might be concerned for my personality losing some of its New York cuddliness may put those fears to rest. I'm still a pissed off bastard. We were in the bastion of consumerism this evening (Wal-Mart) and I got to the point where I could hear my Highland ancestors screaming full-throated battlecries and whirling claymores in my head. Why? We were in the express lane, and there was a kid at the register (referred to henceforth as "Todd") and a kid buying crap (aka "Spicoli"). A gallon of neapolitan ice cream and three single-subject notebooks. Spicoli was stoned out of his mind. Hence the nickname. (Todd was either on something or just rock stupid. Too tough to call.) He was purchasing his items with a debit card. Todd rang up the ice cream... and stopped. Spicoli was swiping his damn debit card through the machine from the moment he put his crap on the counter. Slllooooowwwwwlllyyy. And he had to keep doing it, because the machine wasn't reading it. Why? Because the machine was working about 852 bajillion times faster than his drugged-out brain could ever process. Todd was helpful, though. He walked around to Spicoli and tried to swipe the card for him. Yes, walked around. Not "hurried around", not even "scooted". Walked. I've never worked a day of retail in my life, yet even I know you can spin the damn card reader around! Todd couldn't get the card to work either. So he put it in a plastic bag and then ran it through. Yep. If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have believed it, so I don't blame you. So, Spicoli has finally purchased his ice cream. Hooray! It's at this point that the guy behind him in line (the one in front of us) reminds him that he has not yet purchased his wee notebooks.
See, here's the thing. Despite the fact that it was an absolutely lovely day here, cool, upper 60s low 70s, and we were in an air-conditioned store... if I had been carrying ice cream it would've turned to steam by now. I think the candies in the display next to me had all fused into one billion-calorie nugget at this point.
Through teamwork and perseverance, Spicoli and Todd managed to complete the purchase. Sure, it took about 20 minutes longer than it should have, but I'm certain they formed a bond that only two stoners can share. Shame that neither of them will remember it.
Oh, and when we finally exited the store, a string of expletives that would make Lenny blush was heard ringing through the Arizona night sky. A white-hot slice of New York, baby.
For those of you still reading, the picture is of part of the ceiling at the San Xavier mission. I just thought it looked neat.
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