InfiniteCharlie
08-29-2004, 12:12 AM
While Waiting…
Danielle Center
He wears a haggard, worn out, holey Pink Floyd shirt with the words Dark Side of the Moon all faded. You can make out the triangle and the rainbow, but everything else is barely visible. His baggy, beige carpenter pants with paint splattered up and down the legs swallow his muddy L.L. Bean hiking boots. A day old shave covers his face, and his hair has it’s own hangover. His eyes are red and glazed over, but are still calm and inviting. He carries a SoBe in one hand and a package of cheese doodles in the other. He pays for his items and buys some gas then holds the door for a woman walking in. He makes his trip to his old beat-up Volvo wagon; I wonder where he’s been in it, if he fell in love in that car or heard what his t-shirt reflects. I wonder if at one time he was riding around with his friends with music blaring, “Easy Rider” style, in his old wagon just loving the moment for the moment. I wonder what secrets he has.
Next in line is thugged-out Mr. Dr. Dre. I want to tell him his pants are falling down, but I’m afraid he’ll choke me to death with his wallet chain. He is impatient and is talking on his cell phone the whole time. He has on a red and white Sean John shirt and a Yankees baseball hat. I want to tell him that in New Hampshire we cheer for the Red Sox, but I thought that might be rude. He finally gets off his phone, and pays for his Coke and Slim Jim, then heads out the door walking like one leg’s shorter than the other. He steps into his Honda Civic and automatically his stereo starts blaring, totally what I expected. But to my surprise it’s not rap music blasting out the windows, it’s country, Garth Brooks I think.
The girl in front of me is a stick with a head of blonde hair. I want to tell her that her hair is a fire hazard, and her perfume could wake the dead. She wears a mini tank top, blue jeans, and pink Adidas Superstar sneakers. Just her being there irritates me and I don’t know why. She looks like she could be a snob, and someone all the guys would want to date. But then I realized that I was the one being snobby because after paying for her Diet Sprite and bag of M&Ms she accidentally bumped into me and practically apologized for a year and a half. She was really nice about it, and I felt bad for judging her. I said it was alright and she walked out to where her mom was waiting with the silver Minivan.
Finally I was at the register. I put down my Doritos and Mountain Dew, and waited for Jake, the cashier to ring me up. He looked tired and I felt bad for him. He seemed so sad behind his cash register, and I wondered why at his age he was working at a convenience store. It made me imagine him being a little kid with ambitions who probably never thought he’d work at a Mobil On The Run. I say thanks and leave, and head out to the parking lot where new people are pulling in, and others are leaving. I see the cars on the road just passing by one after another, and I wonder where Pink Floyd Shirt and Mr. Dr. Dre are at that moment. I wonder if stick girl is eating her M&Ms and I think about Jake behind the counter. Then I sit in my old Cougar, turn on the radio and head home.
Danielle Center
He wears a haggard, worn out, holey Pink Floyd shirt with the words Dark Side of the Moon all faded. You can make out the triangle and the rainbow, but everything else is barely visible. His baggy, beige carpenter pants with paint splattered up and down the legs swallow his muddy L.L. Bean hiking boots. A day old shave covers his face, and his hair has it’s own hangover. His eyes are red and glazed over, but are still calm and inviting. He carries a SoBe in one hand and a package of cheese doodles in the other. He pays for his items and buys some gas then holds the door for a woman walking in. He makes his trip to his old beat-up Volvo wagon; I wonder where he’s been in it, if he fell in love in that car or heard what his t-shirt reflects. I wonder if at one time he was riding around with his friends with music blaring, “Easy Rider” style, in his old wagon just loving the moment for the moment. I wonder what secrets he has.
Next in line is thugged-out Mr. Dr. Dre. I want to tell him his pants are falling down, but I’m afraid he’ll choke me to death with his wallet chain. He is impatient and is talking on his cell phone the whole time. He has on a red and white Sean John shirt and a Yankees baseball hat. I want to tell him that in New Hampshire we cheer for the Red Sox, but I thought that might be rude. He finally gets off his phone, and pays for his Coke and Slim Jim, then heads out the door walking like one leg’s shorter than the other. He steps into his Honda Civic and automatically his stereo starts blaring, totally what I expected. But to my surprise it’s not rap music blasting out the windows, it’s country, Garth Brooks I think.
The girl in front of me is a stick with a head of blonde hair. I want to tell her that her hair is a fire hazard, and her perfume could wake the dead. She wears a mini tank top, blue jeans, and pink Adidas Superstar sneakers. Just her being there irritates me and I don’t know why. She looks like she could be a snob, and someone all the guys would want to date. But then I realized that I was the one being snobby because after paying for her Diet Sprite and bag of M&Ms she accidentally bumped into me and practically apologized for a year and a half. She was really nice about it, and I felt bad for judging her. I said it was alright and she walked out to where her mom was waiting with the silver Minivan.
Finally I was at the register. I put down my Doritos and Mountain Dew, and waited for Jake, the cashier to ring me up. He looked tired and I felt bad for him. He seemed so sad behind his cash register, and I wondered why at his age he was working at a convenience store. It made me imagine him being a little kid with ambitions who probably never thought he’d work at a Mobil On The Run. I say thanks and leave, and head out to the parking lot where new people are pulling in, and others are leaving. I see the cars on the road just passing by one after another, and I wonder where Pink Floyd Shirt and Mr. Dr. Dre are at that moment. I wonder if stick girl is eating her M&Ms and I think about Jake behind the counter. Then I sit in my old Cougar, turn on the radio and head home.