For those of you that know me relatively well,(or not at all) it will come as no surprise that on most days of my life the only thing that prevents me from being a mass murderer is iced coffee. Seriously, I drink the shit like it’s going to kill me if I don’t. I don’t necessarily do it merely for the taste, I do it because of the caffeine and sugar. It keeps my energy up enough to allow me to bitch about the things that need bitched about. Bad drivers, for example, or morning people…or the person that sells me my iced coffee (in this case).
Each day I struggle with whether or not it’s going to be worth the effort of getting out of bed, suiting up, and saving the world. I know what you’re thinking…”You expect me to believe that you save the world every day?” The answer is an emphatic “Fuck yeah, how else would you still be here reading this if I didn’t?” Damn…get with the program. Anyway, Yesterday was a bit different. I work the midnight shift this week, so instead of waking up, and going to work, I’m waking up, and coming home from work. On my way, I like to stop at the store near my house and buy a half-gallon of iced coffee. For whatever reason, the management of said fine establishment decided to throw me a change up from my routine yesterday. In lieu of the hot girl that normally works 7-3, they threw in a sub…I mean a fucking sub…like a German U-boat. The kind of shit that’ll wreck your day. As I approach the checkout lane, I immediately realize something is amiss…the light fragrance of heaven is replaced by something in the neighborhood of old, and desperation. Already…I’m a bit nervous. This isn’t going to be the exchange that I look forward to starting my day with. Once in line, I see the issue. Apparently, through some oversight, Miss September has been replaced with a lady I can only refer to as “Honey Boo Boo fucked up”.
This trainwreck in Express Aisle 3 is staring at me with her “good eye”. I think… She starts up a conversation with asking if the iced coffee is all I need. I’ve never wished so bad in my life that I had an entire shopping list in my pocket to hand her, so I could say “Nope…I’m gonna need you to run and grab the rest of it though”. Unfortunately, the surprise change in casting for this little nightmare left me unprepared. “Yep.” was all that I had.This is the trainwreck’s cue to begin a soliloquy on her grandson, and something about a car. I try to look interested, but I’m pretty sure by about 9:15 when she’s halfway through her fucking life story, I fell asleep. When I woke up, she was staring at me…or not. I can’t really tell when people that need a front end alignment on their eyes is looking at me. I wasn’t sure what she’d said, so I hand her my debit card. she’s still staring at me (I think) when she swipes my card. There was a bit of an awkward silence between us. To break it up, she decides to strike up another conversation. At this point, she’s holding my card hostage, forcing me to continue to stand there in Not-so-Express Aisle 3, and interact with her. It was a strange conversation. Something about do I need a bag. I told her no, and she returned my card without having to get a SWAT team and negotiator involved. By this time, I’d been around this lady long enough to be convinced that she isn’t actually even looking at me. I look around, and find that I’m the only one in the store except her, and some guy rearranging the magazines two aisles over. I take my coffee, and begin to leave. Then it occurs to me that tomorrow, I may have to go through this shit again…I started to ask the Aisle 3 trainwreck if she would be there tomorrow, but left it alone.