6:10 a.m. - 2012-08-23
GENERAL STORE
The other day I had to take a detour off the expressway because of an accident. One of those enormous tankers had flipped onto its side and was spilling its liquid contents all over the road. Found out later that it was asphalt sealant. The detour put me on a two-lane highway that runs parallel to the expressway. I could see the tanker and more emergency vehicles than I could count, including a hazmat truck.

I wasn't sure of my route, so I stopped at the first business I saw open, with a sign that said General Store, to get directions or at least buy a map.

The woman behind the counter was named Allie: middle aged, pretty, friendly and helpful. She gave me clear directions and even drew a map on a piece of scrap paper. It seemed only right to give her a little business in return, so I bought coffee and a doughnut.

Just as I was leaving a skinny little weasly old guy rode up on a bicycle, came in and bought a case of beer. He put it in the handlebar basket on his bike and rode off.

"That's a big part of my business," Allie informed me. Glancing around the store, I noticed for the first time that a lot of the shelving was devoted to alcohol and the kind of junk food that goes with the alcohol munchies.

I thanked Allie again and was about to leave when a heavily tattooed woman walked into the store, pulling a little red wagon behind her. She bought TWO cases of beer and headed back out the door.

"A lot of the locals come in here at least once a day," Allie went on. "They load up on booze and head back home. Some of them come in again later the same day."

"Not that many with cars?" I asked.

"Oh, some of them own cars, but they also own more than their share of DUIs."

"Huh," was my answer to that.

An overweight guy wearing a plaid shirt, what looked like a pair of Speedos, and flip flops walked in and headed for--you guessed it--the beer section. Despite the Speedos, I knew right away that it wasn't Michael Phelps. He walked up to the counter carrying a six pack in each hand.

"I hope I don't offend you ladies," he semi apologized. "Live so close by , didn't seem worth changing clothes just for a quick trip in here. Sides, I do yoga with five beautiful ladies like yourselfs, and they LIKE it when I dress this way."

"There he goes," remarked Allie as he exited the store, back to us.

"I thought they were Speedos," I commented, "but it's more like a thong. Big mistake watching him from the back."

"Just another image from the workplace that I'll never get out of my head," remarked Allie.

"Well, somewhere everybody like that has five beautiful ladies who want to do yoga with him," I pointed out.

"Yesterday," Allie told me, "a guy came in with no shirt and wanted me to rub sunburn lotion on his back. He seemed offended when I refused."

This made me hope that Allie was an aspiring writer who was working jobs like this one to gather material for a novel. Otherwise her job sucked, and she was such a nice person.

As I was leaving another guy came into the store: huge, pale and bloated like he might need some fluid drained from his belly; he also headed for the beer section. I waited outside in my car until he left. He climbed onto a lawn tractor and drove off. Probably another guy with too many DUIs, but he might have been on his way to yoga class....

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