A story of the times
chu… chu… chu… changes....
I had a lunch meeting with an old, dear friend whom I hadn’t seen in a gagillion years [different coasts] We’ve kept in touch thru emails and phone calls and when we met it was like no time had passed at all—we fell into conversation like we’d had coffee last week. It was Great Fun!
But that’s not important now the story.
We met in a place generally, sorta half-way between where he’s staying for his business trip and The Country&trade—Moron County. He had a craving for some only-to-be-found-on-the-West-Coast delicacies so we sought out a shop, found a fone book, suffering the derisive, uncomprehending looks of the post-teens at the counter [a what???][guess I shoulda used my cell fone or sumpthin’?] and set off to where I thought this place oughta be.
Predictably, psychic navigation got us only so far and I stopped at a 7/11 to seek further *cough* clarification. Bemember - by now we were in Honkey Town the home of the Limousine Liberal, Mill Valley. In that whole, jammed 7/11 I found not one [1] person who could speak sufficient English to answer—hell, comprehend—my question, “Where is Belvedere Ave?”
Finally, a lone hippydippy woman - a customer - wandered out of an aisle and gave me an answer. Not a particularly good answer, but closer than I was.
After our second interlude of scenic byways [and it was scenic—I’ll give ‘em that] we returned to the area of the freeway where my eye lit on certain haven: an actual Tobacconist Shop. Delighted, I remarked to my pal, “There’s our answer.” Puzzled, “Why ya say that?” I, “Contraband store.”
And, yep: “Go to this light,” said the pipe-smoking proprietor, “and once you’ve made the 90° turn, it’ll be right in front of you.”
And it was.
PS Hope that burst pipe thing goes alright…
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