Since my shopping trips are usually pretty small, I'm more of a self-checkout girl. The other week, I really needed to stock up, so I thought I'd give myself a tiny break and go through the manned lines instead. A quick scan showed that your line was the most empty.
The first thing I noticed was your piano keyboard belt straight out of a 90s Hot Topic, followed by your bed-head mop and your emo kid glasses. The next thing I noticed was the woman in front of me in line, who was trying to hold some kind of conversation with you, of which, you were having none.
Yeah, I kind of thought you were a prick for snubbing her, but you were probably annoyed that she had about a zillion items and was attempting to bag a grand total of zero of them. But, you should have been a little sensitive to the fact that she was like 70 years fragile and just trying to be social.
After she finished up, I started packing my own groceries, lest the residual fiery rays of cashier-angst be rained down upon me. I was into my second to last bag, and that's when you surprised me. As you passed a box of graham crackers down the belt, you actually spoke to me.
Truth be told, I was impressed that you noticed (and glad that I wasn't purchasing something else like tampons). As I finished packing, you even thanked me for bagging my groceries, and then (sort of) told off the impatient guy behind me for stepping up to the register when it was clear that I still needed to pay.
It is possible that you were trying to impress me, since, now that I think on it, I was dressed every bit the skater punk like you. Or maybe you were just grateful that I took the time to load my own bags. Or, you could just be super observant. Regardless, you actually had the notion to say something to me.
I was walking down the shore at Raritan Bay with Dillon the other weekend, when I randomly decided to draw a huge "Hello :)" in the sand. We walked to the other end of the beach, putzed around for a bit, and then came back. On the return stroll, just as we were coming back on my sign, we passed by a random gent who glanced down at the message, smiled, and walked on. I was insufferably happy afterwards, partly because I put a grin on a complete stranger's face, but also because he actually looked at it instead of ignoring or missing it.
There, and in your line, for the briefest of moments, there was some kind of human connection, and while it probably didn't mean much, it made life that much more OK in my book.
Until the next.
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