Shoe Boxes

Last night around 6:00, I took one of my blindingly fast pee breaks. When I emerged from the bathroom, there was a man standing at the counter with wild hair and a fist full of dollar bills. On his left foot, he was wearing the empty box from a twelve pack of Pepsi, and on his right foot, the empty box from a twelve pack of Budweiser.

I sighed audibly while washing my hands. There is a general level of craziness at the Mini Mart, and now it seemed that the crazy was going to reach whole new levels.

A few things ran through my mind as I approached the counter. Would I have to call the cops? Maybe I would have to forcibly remove this man. If I have to forcibly remove someone, do I get the rest of the night off? It seems only fair.

"Can I help you?"

When the man spoke, he seemed to be fairly sane. But he was drunk. He was real drunk. This made me feel a little better. I can understand drunk. I've been drunk. This is easier to relate to than just plain crazy. Now I could get him what he needed and get him on his way. No need to be authoritarian.

The man asked for Pall Mall's and I gave them to him. He then told me that he had just returned from Iraq. He was still getting used to the subtleties of living in the states. Subtleties like having to wear shoes in public. He had been removed from the bar in town already, but had found a solution to the shoe problem and was confident that he would have no further problems.

He came around the counter and shook my hand. I told him that I had been in Africa and he said he had friends who had been in Morocco learning how to "control people without, you know, yak yak yak [violence]." I had made a friend.

At that point, a horn sounded outside. My new friend stuck his head out the door and screamed something ridiculously offensive that made me blush, I'm sure. He used a racial slur very loudly and yelled that he was having a conversation and that they could kindly "go f*** [themselves]." I wondered again if I would have to call the police, but looked out the door to find that the ones outside were his ride. He shook my hand again and I watched as he shuffled out the door and into the waiting truck.

I know not where he went from there, but I'm sure they couldn't throw him out for not having shoes. They might be able to get him for screaming obscenities, however.