Hello Party People! I’m writing from the desk of a cozy basement just north of Denver Colorado. That’s right, I’m on vacation with my sweetie! We’re here to see the sights and visit with her family and in someways maybe see if I would be interested in moving here. I’m not so sure about the last part but I’m more than willing to be convinced.
I love airports but only in the most sarcastic sense of the word “love”. We flew out of Mesa Gateway which is very much a smaller airport than Sky Harbor. They didn’t have a food court but more two sandwich stands on either end of the concourse. The one on our side was a paradise bakery so we thought we were in luck. We go up to the counter and I notice that there is a stark look of fear on the staff, everyone seems like a bunch of puppies with their tails between their legs. I’ve seen this look before, it usually involves one bitch of a manag- and there she was!
She stool about 5’8, not super tall by any means but taller than most of the girls who worked there. She was somewhere between 26 and 30 years old but her scowl seemed much older. Perhaps she inherited it from a sadistic old woman of German decent. Her eyes were an icy blue that only showed any warmth at sight of tears. Her hair was wound up tight in a perm that was traditionally reserved for women who are frantically fighting the closet door that will one day open wether they want it to or not. Clearly this world we live in was a punching bag through the icy blue gaze of this woman who longed for the days of team sports and an limitless future that didn’t include asking people if they wanted an extra cookie.
We approached the counter to put in the order, the teller was asking the right questions with the red shirted hawk looking over her shoulder yet the teller flinched when she asked if we wanted to upsize on our drinks. We hesitated for a moment and the hawk swooped down from her perch to let us know what’s what.
“22 or 32 oz and I charge for refills!”
Clearly she was in charge. I asked for a 22 oz but with no ice. For those of you who don’t know, asking for no ice in the food biz is a subtle way of telling the workers, “I won’t let you cheat me out of soda with your devious ice!” If anything that’s how she took it, which was good because that’s how I meant it ^^
That was the extent of the actual trip, now I’m in the basement of Jennie’s sisters house looking up through the grates and seeing the glimpses of such a beautiful blue sky. I can’t wait to see what this week has in store for Jennie and me. I know we’re going to a Richard Marx concert this weekend, yes I love her that much.
Till next time Party People
Keep on a Chooglin!
I love airports but only in the most sarcastic sense of the word “love”. We flew out of Mesa Gateway which is very much a smaller airport than Sky Harbor. They didn’t have a food court but more two sandwich stands on either end of the concourse. The one on our side was a paradise bakery so we thought we were in luck. We go up to the counter and I notice that there is a stark look of fear on the staff, everyone seems like a bunch of puppies with their tails between their legs. I’ve seen this look before, it usually involves one bitch of a manag- and there she was!
She stool about 5’8, not super tall by any means but taller than most of the girls who worked there. She was somewhere between 26 and 30 years old but her scowl seemed much older. Perhaps she inherited it from a sadistic old woman of German decent. Her eyes were an icy blue that only showed any warmth at sight of tears. Her hair was wound up tight in a perm that was traditionally reserved for women who are frantically fighting the closet door that will one day open wether they want it to or not. Clearly this world we live in was a punching bag through the icy blue gaze of this woman who longed for the days of team sports and an limitless future that didn’t include asking people if they wanted an extra cookie.
We approached the counter to put in the order, the teller was asking the right questions with the red shirted hawk looking over her shoulder yet the teller flinched when she asked if we wanted to upsize on our drinks. We hesitated for a moment and the hawk swooped down from her perch to let us know what’s what.
“22 or 32 oz and I charge for refills!”
Clearly she was in charge. I asked for a 22 oz but with no ice. For those of you who don’t know, asking for no ice in the food biz is a subtle way of telling the workers, “I won’t let you cheat me out of soda with your devious ice!” If anything that’s how she took it, which was good because that’s how I meant it ^^
That was the extent of the actual trip, now I’m in the basement of Jennie’s sisters house looking up through the grates and seeing the glimpses of such a beautiful blue sky. I can’t wait to see what this week has in store for Jennie and me. I know we’re going to a Richard Marx concert this weekend, yes I love her that much.
Till next time Party People
Keep on a Chooglin!
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