Yesterday I was stocking the Twizzlers Cherry Twists, when a man walked up to me. I greeted him as per usual; "Good morning. How are you?" I have to stop doing that, asking how are you (although if I didn't do that, I might miss out on oddly entertaining stories of outdated frat-boy-try, forgive the gummi word). He began telling me about the odd things in his day. People cutting him off, parked strangely, odd vibes from people all over the city, and he's driving a new car! It is an externally unknown fact about Minnesotans, that they cannot drive in rain or sun. They can handle snow just fine, but give them rain and the accidents are exponential on those days, and they all make stupid mistakes. It should be a case study for some doctorate student, because it happens every time. The alternative oddity is the sun. Everywhere I have ever been, sun makes people roll down their windows and drive faster, crank the music, have general merriment. But in Minnesota, drivers consistently keep their windows up, and slowwww dowwwnnnn. It's like hitting the power button on some electronic device, and listening to it wind down. I don't know where this thought process comes from, other than perhaps they are hoping if they trap all the air and let the sun stream in they will thaw, and they don't want to drive out of the sun? I have no idea, but I just want to "go baby go" when the sun comes out, and I always get stuck behind some frigid Minnesota-sicle. But I digress.
I listened to this man's story, actually interested (a trait I no doubt learned from my father). Since I was listening, he continued in sporadic, seemingly random statements, all equally entertaining. I will sum up for you in flowing language what I remember from this conversation.
"I haven't had a day this odd since I returned from the service in 1970. I got back, and picked up my buddy in my new 65 Lincoln (I think), and we went out on the town. First we went to get gas, and there was a woman in the lot trying to change a tire. Well I walked right up there and said, 'Hey darlin', why don't you let a real man do that?' Well she got up and chased me around the car, saying she was a real man and she didn't need me to do it. I didn't know what got into the lady. Then I look and see my friend watching me, laughing, and he's spilling gas all over my new car! So then he asks me where I want to go. I told him last time I came home from the war I grabbed my gal and we went out to this diner, so we went there. I walked in and it was like Heaven, all the girls over here, and all the guys over there. I hadn't ever seen anything like it, girls with girls and guys with guys. Some guy came up and put his hands on my shoulders, I told him 'that's dessert, and it's for the ladies!' Then he blew in my ear, and I had to break a bottle on the bar and point it at them to get out of there. I'd tell you the rest but you'd get jealous."
I laughed and said, "probably" more out of confusion, I think, but I really was enjoying the story. I realized though it didn't look like I was working so I asked him if I could help him find something. We started the walk back to the rear of the store while he continued.
"I got pulled over that day too, by a cop that I KNEW, even. He pulled me over on Arcade and asked me by my name if I knew the speed limit. I said 55, it was Arcade. While I was gone it switched to 30. I didn't know. Then he told me not to smoke anywhere near my car because it smelled like gas."
"How old were you?" I asked. It was his second tour, both times from the draft, and he was 23? I was unclear if he was drafted the second time at 22, or if he returned at 22. Not important. I thought that was quite young, but he assured me that was an "Old timer" in war years. Every few minutes he'd say, "wow, I haven't had a day like this since 1970, that's 40 years. Oh my gosh, that's 40 years!!!" It was funny to me, but I kept saying, "Stop saying it, it won't be so bad.!" He was fascinating. He used to be a talent scout for the Kansas City Royals, and the Mets. I really enjoyed our conversation. Incidentally, he came in for bird food, because he likes to see the deer come up with their fawns and eat. I thought that was nice, if not a little ironic, considering all I had just heard about him.
I started thinking about veterans, the wars. How different are things when they come home, and see for what they were really fighting and protecting? How much has this country changed since 2001, and what do our troops see when they come home that is so different? I work with at least 2 soldiers, both who did tours in Iraq. Things come out in little ways, like, "oh, we had that energy drink in Iraq. It's the desert, you drink what you can..." or "I woke up today, and there was 140 degree difference between here and Iraq. Do I miss the desert?" I find it interesting, but I wonder if it is like when I take an international trip and things remind me of it. If it is like that, it has to have so many more levels.
Anyway, that is my story. He has a friend who's son is a producer, says it should be a movie, or at least a scene. I'm glad I got the interest in people's story trait from my father.
Today's Song of the Day is
Fireflies by Owl City (a local group)
