So I’m house
sitting for the month or so, just under three weeks I think. It’s for a regular
patron of ours at the pub. Great guy.
Regardless…
So, aside from making sure the dog (or
dogs… I really should have checked up on that minor detail earlier) doesn’t run
way and preventing the house from burning down, I really don’t have too too
much to do. Last Thursday, I figure I’ll
be a nice guy and mow the lawn. It’s not a gigantor lawn mind you, but it
doesn’t take a Florida native to understand doing any kind of physical activity
outdoors, at noon, in June, in the Sunshine State, to know I’m sweating like a BP exec at a
Green Peace rally by the time I’m done. As soon as I finish, I hop in shower
and as I’m washing off the gallons of sweat I’ve just exuded, I realize I need
to grab some lunch before work and I don’t have much time. I’ve already
eaten *everything* in the home owners fridge, cupboard, and pantry (including the Frosty Pawz frozen doggie ice
cream treats… which, for the record, are
*not* awesome regardless to how much pot you’ve smoked) so I need run up to
Publix wicked quickly if I’m going to have time to grab something before my shift. In no time flat, I throw on some shorts,
ironic tee shift from Salvation Army, and flip flops (my usual attire) and high
tail it to the supermarket just up the road.
Working later that afternoon, I know
time is of the essence. I check my watch and realize I’m not *as* crunched for
time as I originally thought. Relieved, I casually make my way around my 2nd all-time
favorite super market. I peruse the magazine stand for a hot minute, make my
way over to the crappy pre-made sushi,
contemplate the oven-ready stuffed chicken for a second, ultimately
moseying over to the deli fresh sub stand. Have you ever had a Publix sub
before? Wicked fucking good, man… but I digress…
So as I tour Publix trying to make a
decision on what I’m to eat for lunch, twenty or so minutes elapse. I probably
make 3 solid laps around the entire floor of the supermarket. In that time, I’m
given the Stink Eye by at least three people… three people I notice at least,
coulda been more for all I know (Stink Eye: that face you make when you look at
someone with complete and utter disgust as you’re thinking “Are you fucking
serious?”). Now to put things in
perspective, I feel I should point out that I’m kind of a space shot, usually
in my own world. So at first, it doesn’t
sink in that these people are specifically giving ME the Stink Eye or Ice Grill
or whatever you want to call it. I mean,
I notice it but it doesn’t really register.
Not on a personal level at least.
Maybe they’re just having a bad day, or they’re just garbage in
general? Don’t really know, don’t really
care. Well, I should say I really *didn’t* care until I encounter the poor old
woman with the utterly shocked and amazed gaze that ripped right through me….
Alright so maybe she isn’t THAT old.
Admittedly, I exaggerate a little bit because it helps my story, but not
much. This woman, probably upper
fifties, lower sixties walks passed me with this look on her face which will
forever be embedded in my brain… and conscience. She gives this look as we pass
one another like she’s just caught her son
masturbating at his grandmothers wake… like she’s SO upset, angry, and
disappointed but she hasn’t even begun to unveil those emotions because she’s still in utter shock at what she’s
digesting in front of her. Now, I start
thinking… thinking quickly at that. I know I literally *just* showered, but do a
quick smell test anyway. Nothing. Maybe
those other people were looking at me?
Why? What the fuck? As I’m running through this checklist of thoughts
through my head, I feel a tap on my shoulder.
It’s the old woman…
Confused, shocked, and relieved in a weird
way, I ask the old woman “Yes mamm? Can
I help you?” with a shit eating grin on my face. With her hand cracked over her
mouth, she somewhat inaudibly responds “Oh yes, welll… um…” Attempting to
defuse this awkward situation, I interrupt “Do you need some help? Do you need me grab something off one of the
top shelves for you? What do you need?”
as I point in the direction of one of the top shelves, Honey Bunches of Oats
and the new Just Bunches cereal. “Oh
no, no. It’s that...” again, hand over mouth, “well…” I am baffled at this point. It's as if she’s trying to say something, but
can't. Or won't. What… I don’t know. And slowly, but quickly (contradiction I
know, but that’s the only way I can explain my realization) it hits me…
Earlier, I said
I RUSHED out of the shower… emphasis on *rushed*. Rushed as in “sans-underwear” rushed…
I literally walked, for twenty minutes, for
three long casual laps, around Publix with my dong completely exposed for the
general public to take in, for better or worse.
