There is nothing more enjoyable for me than making a late grocery run to WalMart on a Saturday night. I am of course being sarcastic. One night after hanging out with "Sweet Lou" at the Shell Station, I had to run to WalMart at 10:00 for yogurt, cereal, spaghettie, sauce, hamburger meat...(no, this is not for some strange casserole)-you know, the" Things We Need and Ran Out of" run.
And, since WalMart (or Murphy USA) was selling gas at $1.53 a gallon, in my incredible wisdom I thought I should take advantage of that offer, especially since the needle was pushing "E." So, one more stop.
There was no line of Very Important People. I went right up to the woman in the glass booth, told her how much gas I wanted, and started writing my check when I hear this voice behind me talking.
"How's it going?"
I don't know this voice.
"Cold, just want to fill it up and get home."
I'm thinking it's blue tooth guy. I can see a tall person behind me, talking I think to himself.
The Lady in the Glass Box is asking me for I.D. Wants to know what pump I'm on. I'm asking her for a pen. I'm writing out my check.
"Man, I thought this was America..." the voice said. Blue Tooth Guy continues.
"I thought the 1960's was over..." he says. He's not angry. He has a rather mellow voice.
I turn around because I'm starting to have this weird feeling that maybe it's not Blue Tooth Guy-maybe it's just Talk to People You Don't Know Guy.
I smiled. Tall guy. Around my age. Dreads and a pony tail. No Blue Tooth.
Awkward. I feel Awkward.
"I'm sorry," I smiled, 'Were you talking to me?"
"Yeah," he smiled. "I'm talking to you, and I'm thinking,'man, the 60's are over. I thought Americans got along now..."
I'm feeling really awkward now. The Lady in the Box wants me to give her back her pen and of course the check that is still in my checkbook.
"I apologize, my man," I said. "I could only hear you and assumed you had a Blue Tooth on and were talking to someone on the phone..."
"No, I was talking to you," he said. He smiled. "Just being friendly. I say be friendly to folks. "
I turned and shook his hand. Part of me is wondering (if you see previous note) what it is about me and gas stations and People I Don't Know. Part of me is also wondering what God is trying to teach me. It's been two nights in a row now.
I give the Lady in the Box my check, she is writing down my D.L.. # on the check.
"Yeah," he said, "I'm thinking it's 1960's all over again. Two people can't talk because of the color of my skin...that's what I thought. And I thought, man...that's a shame...I guess I should have said 'scuze me man, or introduced myself or something....but ain't nobody here but you and me so I figured you were just ignoring me..."
Awkward again.
I remind him of the whole Blue Tooth thing. He said, "Oh, yeah, people walking around looking like they are talking to themselves...that phone thing...you thought I had one of those things?"
"Yes," I assured him.
"Naw, man...don't need to always be on the phone. Why do people always have to be on the phone? Everybody always talking to someone and never talking to people around them. Don't get that."
I could appreciate his philosophy.
"People talk, but they don't talk. I'm just talkin to you. Nice to meet you."
We never exchanged names. Just shook hands. He smiled. I smiled.
I admit, some part of me thought, "O.K., there is a 'catch' here. Maybe he's going to ask me for some money or maybe he needs a ride somewhere..."
No. Nothing like that. Just a "Nice to meet you, man" and him walking three lanes over to fill up his old SUV while I filled up my car.
He finished first. Started his car, began to drive off, slowed down and waved goodbye.
I waved back.
Nothing monumental about the story. Maybe that's the significance of the story. Be friendly.
Novel idea.
I'm learning a lot about life from my trips to stores at night. In the middle of all the busyness there are a million stories out there, and a lot of people just looking for an affirmation of their humanity and that they matter. That we matter.
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