My Last Night a Virgin...........ian
The Thunderbird is gassed up, the mandatory roadtrip bubblegum is bought, and my life is disappearing into little boxes that the cats like to crawl into and sleep. The dogs have eyed the suitcases with trepidation. My Pregnant Wife has pushed the last of the refrigerator's remaining meat products into my gullet. Tomorrow, after rush hour traffic has died down (har!), I'll take the packed car to the scales at Fort Belvoir, since I get paid for shipping a portion of my goods. Then it's 95 to 495 to 270 to 70 to 68 to 79 to 70 to 675 to 30 to 4th street and my hotel until the rest of my goods arrive.
I'll see you on the other side.
So I got gas at the WaWa. It's the cheapest around, and usually 15 cents less than anything up north, plus it's just fun to say. Usually I just pay at the pump, but I wanted to buy said gum, and some STP treatment to nurse the ol' fuel ignition thingy along a while longer. Got in line behind a guy with a six-pack, and when he put it up on the counter, he turned sideways and I got a look at his face. Man, he looks young, I thought. I glanced around for a sign that read "We Check ID if you look younger than Alan Greenspan" or something, but couldn't find one. The checkout girl, herself, looked maybe 16, and I wondered if she'd card the guy. She didn't; rang him up, put the MGD in a bag. Maybe I'm the one getting old. But instead of money, the guy tore off some perforated red card and handed it to the girl and walked out. She showed it to the other cashier in a whiny manner, and said, "But he looked old enough!". I don't know if it was a police sting, or a M.A.D.D. project, but I think it was pretty cool. Until the girl rang me up and still there, at the top of the screen, was a charge for a six-pack of MGD.
I always think of Chachi from Happy Days when I get gas there. "Wa, wa, wa," he'd say, in his slick italian punk-ass way. My Pregnant Wife just makes like a duck. Wa, Wa.
I really had a thing for Leather Tuscadero.
Right. See you on the other side.
I'll see you on the other side.
So I got gas at the WaWa. It's the cheapest around, and usually 15 cents less than anything up north, plus it's just fun to say. Usually I just pay at the pump, but I wanted to buy said gum, and some STP treatment to nurse the ol' fuel ignition thingy along a while longer. Got in line behind a guy with a six-pack, and when he put it up on the counter, he turned sideways and I got a look at his face. Man, he looks young, I thought. I glanced around for a sign that read "We Check ID if you look younger than Alan Greenspan" or something, but couldn't find one. The checkout girl, herself, looked maybe 16, and I wondered if she'd card the guy. She didn't; rang him up, put the MGD in a bag. Maybe I'm the one getting old. But instead of money, the guy tore off some perforated red card and handed it to the girl and walked out. She showed it to the other cashier in a whiny manner, and said, "But he looked old enough!". I don't know if it was a police sting, or a M.A.D.D. project, but I think it was pretty cool. Until the girl rang me up and still there, at the top of the screen, was a charge for a six-pack of MGD.
I always think of Chachi from Happy Days when I get gas there. "Wa, wa, wa," he'd say, in his slick italian punk-ass way. My Pregnant Wife just makes like a duck. Wa, Wa.
I really had a thing for Leather Tuscadero.
Right. See you on the other side.
posted by Dan at 1:56 PM
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