Searching For High Quality Trash
HOW SOON AFTER GETTING UP IS IT ALLOWABLE TO TAKE A NAP? I think I may be pushing it a bit, but I got up at 7:30 this morning. It is now 11:10 AM and I’m seriously considering a little nappy-poo. I know that sounds nasty but…I don’t care.
It is now 3:37 PM.
It was a good little nap. I agree with you. A four and a half nap does border on a coma, but I felt it was also somewhat medicinal. Take a pill or two; lay down for just a minute…BOOM! Its late afternoon. I had plans. So much for them.
It is time to go on to Plan B. Get up, put on pants, and go buy a couple of souvenir T shirts. It’s obligatory in Florida. There is probably a law on the books here, “Don’t buy a cheap T shirt and we feed you to the gators.” People disappear all the time down here. They vanish forever or just show up at the Mayo Clinic. “I was standing in the buffet line when, all of a sudden, I blacked out and woke up in Minnesota.”
I’m going out to hunt for cheap T Shirts. Wish me luck.
Cheap T shirts – you know the kind. They look great. You buy an XXL size and after one washing they only fit the cat. But that’s how they are designed – instant obsolescence. They go from clothing to car wash rags overnight.
…Cut to the Chase…
I’m back from my foray into the world of Cheap T Shirts. There is no shortage of options here. It is a beach boardwalk for crying out loud! It’s the prime product of places like this: CheapTshirts, ice cream, and overpriced alcohol. The life’s blood of beach communities around the world.
I found some really cheap T shirts just five minutes from my hotel. That they were so close gave them the edge, but they had an additional lure that pulled me in – they had music blaring out over the boardwalk…in French. I recognized the singer. I had to investigate.
Inside the store I found myself surrounded by thousands of truly ugly T shirts, Sweatshirts, tank tops, and other trashy items. I was in retail crap heaven. I browsed for all of thirty seconds before making my selections – two T shirts guaranteed to shrink like Alice in Wonderland.
As I toddled back to the checkout counter the music got louder. It was blasting out song after song by Charles Aznavour. He could wring out heartfelt emotion from Chopsticks. He was a superstar in Europe for decades and a virtual unknown in this country.
The clerk behind the counter greeted me with, “Ees there anyzing else?”
Well that explained the Charles Aznavour concert. She was as French as Edith Piaf and more French than the French Toast at the IHOP.
When I commented on the music it was like I had given her permission to cry. She dabbed at her eyes with a Kleenex and told me that it was so sad that Aznavour has passed away. That was news to me, but I don’t keep up with the French obituaries like I should I guess. I asked her when this horrible event had happened.
“Oh, Eet hass been a year or two.”
This woman carries a torch a long time.
I got my T shirts and got out of there before she started to sing along with Aznavour or decided to commit a ritual suicide. It was like I had wandered into a One Person French Graceland.
I stopped and bought some ice cream.