It goes something like this:
I drove from Waco to Houston after my meeting today. I rolled into the area of town where my Hampton Inn was, pulled into the parking lot, looked around and accessed my alcohol and food options. Across the street from the hotel is a Jack n the Box and a gas station. I'll pass on the Box but the gas station convenience store looked promising. I drove over, went in and headed to the "wine" section. It was 4 bottles, all of which I'd rather be sober forever than ever drink. I decided to pass on the wine but did pick up a bag of Bugals (score).
Back in the car and back to square one. I ripped open the Bugals and told Siri to find me a liquor store nearby. That bitch is on top of her game. She found me one 1.5 miles away. A place called "Best Liquor". She asked if I wanted directions to Best Liquor. I told her I'm always looking for the best liquor. She didn't get my sick joke. Whatever.
The saddest part of this story is I didn't take a single picture. But I chose to concentrate on staying alive instead.
When I parked and looked over at the store, there were about 7 scary lookin' fellas loitering out front that I would have to walk through to get into the store. My gut instinct was to speed away pronto but my love and need of wine is too strong. If I could handle the trenches back when I was in 'Nam, I could handle this.
I laughed as I walked from my car through the parking lot to Best Liquor because the whole scene was just ridiculous. I was wearing a dress and high heels and looked like a fish out of water. Like a giant one. Like Jaws. Everyone stared at me but I just kept smiling and walked my white ass into the store. After passing my first challenge of walking past the black mafia congregating out front, I thought I was home free. No. It got even weirder. The store smelled like a mix of cigarettes, curly fries and malt liquor. I half expected my Mom to walk out from the back, high give me and tell me she’s been hiding out in this paradise for 11 years. As I walked to the “wine section” I passed a short Russian man standing behind a folding table offering shots of vodka. Being that I was on a work trip, I decided to politely decline but I made sure to shake his hand and say, “Thanks Borus, give my best to Putin.” He said his name was Ted. I told him he shouldn’t ignore his Russian heritage and should go by his given name of Borus Popov. That’s when he told me he wasn’t Russian and I walked away.
In the back of the store there was a counter. Behind the counter was a women with red hair sitting at a computer that I think I used when I was 9. There were a couple of ladies talking to her and making some kind of transaction. I can’t say what this was other than I was sure the show “Cops” was secretly filming and a raid was about to go down. I moved as slow as possible in order to improve my chances of being on TV. Sadly nothing went down so I focused my attention on getting wine. The selection of was Barefoot impressive, but I decided to splurge on a $9.99 bottle of Dark Horse. I figured if I wasn’t going to make it out of that store alive, I wanted to at least go down with a decent bottle of wine in my hands. Here it his folks, in all its tiny brown bag glory:
Until the next round of nonsense….
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