But then I saw a Hobby Lobby!
Hobby Lobby! HobbyLobby!! ::flail:: I WANT HOBBY LOBBY! Britt jerked the car across three lanes of traffic to take an immediate left, pulled in the parking lot and just stared at me before ranting that we have a Hobby Lobby at home, and that I really just made her do that. Then it was pointed out that we needed containers for our illicit sand collection and a proper pot for George "Popcorn" Paddles, so we went it. We failed on both accounts, but we did walk away with that eerie feeling you get in a chain store, the one where you're pretty sure that if you pretend hard enough, you'll exit from the store you always go to instead of this one, miles and miles away from home.
We left and started Googling someplace interesting to eat at. NOTHING. Oh, there was Sonic, Church's Chicken and McDonald's, but nothing that seemed particularly extraterrestrial. In fact, this whole city seemed rather normal. Target, AutoZone, Ace Hardware, Home Depot... WTF, Roswell?
As we drove down the main road, eyes peeled for anything green and spacey looking, I realized that we were passing places we'd already seen before. There were two Dollar Trees, two Dollar Generals, two Sonics, Church's Chickens, McDonalds, AutoZones, and Best Western Inns, but STILL. NO. ALIENS. It was a little creepy. I mean, it's a big city for the middle of nowhere, but not so big that everything needed to be duplicated unless there really are aliens and there's some type of segregation happening here that no one is willing to advertise to out-of-towners.
Eventually we came upon some sad looking street lamps that had alien faces on them, and two (two) souvenir shops across the street from each other. We wandered in, bought some magnets, complained that their city was too perfect and not kitschy enough, and left.
We were pretty hungry by then, so we gave up hopes of finding anything interesting and headed back to the Applebee's we'd seen near the beginning of town. The waitress had a terrible headcut that made the back of her head look kinda like an alien. It's the closest we got. She couldn't figure out the layout of her own restaurant and parked us somewhere near the back. We took a while picking what we wanted, and sat there. And sat there. Eventually we realized that ten minutes had gone by without anyone taking out drink order and that, even though other waiters had passed us, we had no waiter of our own and were being ignored.
We left our menus at the table and rushed out. Britt tossed a sarcastic "So sorry, we have time constraints." over her shoulder, while I pointedly exclaimed "Are you apologizing?!" in whatever indignant voice I could. The waitress didn't even get it. She just said "Oh, it's okay!"
We left the car where is was and walked down to the Whataburger. I've decided that anyone with pencil thin eyebrows working at a fast food joint is probably not going to care about ANYTHING. Case in point, the lady who took our order. No biggie. I'd probably want to shoot myself if I heard "Whataburger" as many times a day as she did. The burger was actually pretty good. Not so much with the Whatachicken.
As we drove through town on our way out we passed another Sonic, and I went ballistic.
What the fuck! That's a third Sonic! Roswell has three! Three. THREE SONICS! You know how many I have? NONE. Why? Because ROSWELL STOLE ALL MY GODDAMNED SONICS. THEY HAVE THREE! (At this point, I'm practically leaning over Britt to yell at the people in the car next to us at the red light.) THERE ARE THREE SONICS IN THIS ONE CITY WHILE I CAN'T GET ONE FOR OVER THREE STATES. THOSE MOTHER-FUCKING ALIENS STOLE ALL THE GODDAMNED SONICS! ASSHOLES!
Roswell, New Mexico, ladies and gentlemen. All Sonics, no aliens. We're done here.
No comments:
Post a Comment