I am disturbed.
Maybe you've heard of Buc-ee's convenience stores. There are several of them in the middle of nowhere along Texas highways. But they will be on your mind hundreds of miles before you reach them. Why would a gas station be on your mind for so long? Because of the bucktoothed beaver billboards that impose themselves on you every few miles along your route. Example: "ONLY 262 MILES TO BUC-EE’S. YOU CAN HOLD IT."
I have been to Buc-ee's in Luling once before, which I just learned covers over 10(!) acres. It was a quick, in-and-out stop months ago on a trip from San Antonio to Louisiana. Saturday morning I was driving from Houston to Dallas. I was in need of some petro and some breakfast. I saw the signs. I stopped.
I don't think I can adequately describe this place, but I will try. It is a freaking carnival. A carnival with necessities. Because clean restrooms are preferable, and I knew they would deliver. (In fact, as I walked through the store, looking at the tile floor, I was thinking that the place might be cleaner than my house. Which is saying a lot since I live with an obsessively clean person.) This place is the size of a truck stop, but no trucks are allowed. And it stays packed. They have everything from Buc-ee's venison jerky to "specialty coffee".
When you walk in this place, you have to pause for a minute, take it in a bit and actually plan your attack. I needed breakfast tacos. So I walked 100 feet across the store to the counter. Under the heat lamp all I saw were egg-laden tacos.
R: "Can you make me something without eggs?"
Lady at the taco counter: "Sure."
R: "Great. Here's what I want."
Lady: "No, no, no."
She pointed behind me. "There's where you order."
It was a fucking kiosk. A fucking KIOSK!!! And there were 6 of them! Apparently, they even have them at the gas pumps so you can order your food while you pump your gas. Taken from their marketing firm's website: "With this kiosk, you have a blurring of the lines between restaurants, gas stations and supermarkets." I don't know who these people are, but the only time I use a kiosk is to check in at the airport.
This was just WAY too much. While I waited for them to be fixed, I headed across to the coffee counter. I had to have more information. I stopped to talk to one of the girls making some sort of old-fashioned sugar coated popcorn. Her name was Lindsey Lou. No lie, that was on her name tag. And when I asked her how she felt about Buc-ee's she replied, in the thickest southern drawl I have EVER heard, "It's a lot for this small town." I could tell I wasn't going to get the answers I was seeking. I ordered my coffee, I grabbed my tacos and headed to the checkout. Maybe this young man would be more help.
R: "What do you think about this Buc-ee's experience? Because I can't quite wrap my head around what is happening here."
Young man: "It is pretty crazy. I was headed to San Antonio not too long ago. I wasn't going to stop at the Buc-ee's in Luling, because I work here. I get enough of this place. But I saw the signs, and I gave in to them."
I felt like I should get the hell out before I drank the kool-aid. As I got on the road, Roger called, and I expressed my thoughts. I asked him for his. "When you plan a trip to Buc-ee's, you know you're fucked." Agreed.
On down the road I went. Cringing a little as I devoured my semi-automatically generated breakfast tacos.
20 June 2009
12 June 2009
Thought @ Work
Recently I have had several strange things suddenly occur to me.
1. I was walking into work the other day alongside a few of the guys. Walking to punch the clock. All of a sudden, I got the overwhelming feeling that I was in one of those old depressing movies where the men are going to the mine they work in for the job they hate. The job they do to put food on their family's table.
I don't work in a mine. And I don't hate this job. But it is mindless. The nice thing about this is that I don't have to take it home with me. But it is frustrating to do this kind of work when I have a degree. And four helicopter ratings. And my drive. I have to remind myself that it pays my bills. It's just that I am not satisfied with "just paying the bills".
2. Similarly, I find myself in another place when I go to Paramount Theatre. Well, not place, but time. In this instance, the experience is grand.
I have always enjoyed seeing movies by myself. My favorite place to see a movie, above Alamo even, is the Paramount. And typically, I go there by myself. Although I have made a couple of exceptions lately, because I can sometimes be a nice person. But this really isn't important.
My point is this: When I'm watching a movie from 1934 at the Paramount, I feel like I am in 1934 at the Paramount. Even though I am in flip flops, shorts and a tank, I feel as though I am sitting amongst men in tailored suits and fedoras, discarding peanut hulls on the floor. In my mind, I hear the movie reel turning, I see dust hanging in the air and I feel a trickle of sweat on my temple, even though I am actually freezing because the theatre is kept so cold these days. I remain there until the curtain closes and the noisy teenagers begin to file out. This is the kind of time travel I really enjoy.
3. Two years ago I got a call from my best friend from my childhood. She called to tell me she was getting married. At the point, if you asked me which of my friends would be the first to get married, Amanda would never have crossed my mind.
Two days ago Amanda had a son. I have not seen them yet, but when I thought of her holding her tiny new baby, I got the strangest feeling. Amanda's family is my family and mine is hers. I am happy that she had a boy, because, if it were a girl, she was going to name it Emory. Emory will be the name of my first child. Emory is my second family's name.
Amanda and I are a year apart, and we grew up in different towns, but our lives have largely mirrored each others. So it was strange when she agreed to marry. It is also strange that I am now (arguably) married. But her having a kid!?! Now, don't get me wrong. I think about eventually having kids. But she has one now. I don't have to tell you what enormous significance and consequence that comes along with. Not that she isn't a responsible person, but it is quite surreal to think of her in that way, because, now, she will never be apart from that image. And that image is very much incongruous with the image I have had of her for the past 10 years.
4. It is also surreal to pass a vehicle with Disabled Veteran plates and see that the driver is someone I might see at a bar, a handsome young man nearly my age.
1. I was walking into work the other day alongside a few of the guys. Walking to punch the clock. All of a sudden, I got the overwhelming feeling that I was in one of those old depressing movies where the men are going to the mine they work in for the job they hate. The job they do to put food on their family's table.
I don't work in a mine. And I don't hate this job. But it is mindless. The nice thing about this is that I don't have to take it home with me. But it is frustrating to do this kind of work when I have a degree. And four helicopter ratings. And my drive. I have to remind myself that it pays my bills. It's just that I am not satisfied with "just paying the bills".
2. Similarly, I find myself in another place when I go to Paramount Theatre. Well, not place, but time. In this instance, the experience is grand.
I have always enjoyed seeing movies by myself. My favorite place to see a movie, above Alamo even, is the Paramount. And typically, I go there by myself. Although I have made a couple of exceptions lately, because I can sometimes be a nice person. But this really isn't important.
My point is this: When I'm watching a movie from 1934 at the Paramount, I feel like I am in 1934 at the Paramount. Even though I am in flip flops, shorts and a tank, I feel as though I am sitting amongst men in tailored suits and fedoras, discarding peanut hulls on the floor. In my mind, I hear the movie reel turning, I see dust hanging in the air and I feel a trickle of sweat on my temple, even though I am actually freezing because the theatre is kept so cold these days. I remain there until the curtain closes and the noisy teenagers begin to file out. This is the kind of time travel I really enjoy.
3. Two years ago I got a call from my best friend from my childhood. She called to tell me she was getting married. At the point, if you asked me which of my friends would be the first to get married, Amanda would never have crossed my mind.
Two days ago Amanda had a son. I have not seen them yet, but when I thought of her holding her tiny new baby, I got the strangest feeling. Amanda's family is my family and mine is hers. I am happy that she had a boy, because, if it were a girl, she was going to name it Emory. Emory will be the name of my first child. Emory is my second family's name.
Amanda and I are a year apart, and we grew up in different towns, but our lives have largely mirrored each others. So it was strange when she agreed to marry. It is also strange that I am now (arguably) married. But her having a kid!?! Now, don't get me wrong. I think about eventually having kids. But she has one now. I don't have to tell you what enormous significance and consequence that comes along with. Not that she isn't a responsible person, but it is quite surreal to think of her in that way, because, now, she will never be apart from that image. And that image is very much incongruous with the image I have had of her for the past 10 years.
4. It is also surreal to pass a vehicle with Disabled Veteran plates and see that the driver is someone I might see at a bar, a handsome young man nearly my age.
05 June 2009
Summer Breeze, And It Makes Me Feel Fine
I am in Houston. I am exhausted. Naps in the middle of the day used to be my thing. They are quickly becoming so again.
Typically, when I do nap, I stay away from the bed. That's just a bit too pathetic for me. The floor is a good spot. So is the grass in the backyard. That is, until the stupid effing ice cream truck comes into the neighborhood with its abhorrent music blaring.
But, while I'm at Wilson's, the bed is the best place. My room here is wonderful. Red wall, minimalistic shelving, iron and dark cherry wood frame bed with red sheets and my favorite kind of down comforter. Huge western-facing windows so that the afternoon sun can keep me company. And curtains suggesting just the right breeze.
Behold, my afternoon domain,
Typically, when I do nap, I stay away from the bed. That's just a bit too pathetic for me. The floor is a good spot. So is the grass in the backyard. That is, until the stupid effing ice cream truck comes into the neighborhood with its abhorrent music blaring.
But, while I'm at Wilson's, the bed is the best place. My room here is wonderful. Red wall, minimalistic shelving, iron and dark cherry wood frame bed with red sheets and my favorite kind of down comforter. Huge western-facing windows so that the afternoon sun can keep me company. And curtains suggesting just the right breeze.
Behold, my afternoon domain,
02 June 2009
I'll be alright long as I ain't seen it all
As I was listening to Death Cab while working today, which I haven't listened to in a long time, I was thinking about how freaking deep their songs are. It got me to thinking about this bloggiddy blog here, and where I was when I began it. Well, not so much about where I was then, but where I am now. Very very far from there. Like those songs, I was in a deep place for a lot of reasons, but mostly, I think, because of lack of reference. And I was putting a lot of importance on the things that were happening. There was not a lot of hope or happiness trickling in. It was all buried somewhere deep inside.
Now, I am certainly still deep and analytical and "depraved and perverted". But geez, I think I've come a long way. I am incredibly happy and stimulated and fulfilled. And yes, I still think about some things way too much and get wrapped up in my sometimes silly ideas. But I feel like I have a lot more discretion and am more rational about things that are happening around me. I may or may not believe that, but I do feel better these days about my fucked up little reality.
I have a restored faith in a few of the more important people in my life, I am being creative, and I feel in control. And, I'm not holding on so tight to the things that aren't up to me.
So as I take in a confident breath, I relieve a sigh of contentment.
Now, I am certainly still deep and analytical and "depraved and perverted". But geez, I think I've come a long way. I am incredibly happy and stimulated and fulfilled. And yes, I still think about some things way too much and get wrapped up in my sometimes silly ideas. But I feel like I have a lot more discretion and am more rational about things that are happening around me. I may or may not believe that, but I do feel better these days about my fucked up little reality.
I have a restored faith in a few of the more important people in my life, I am being creative, and I feel in control. And, I'm not holding on so tight to the things that aren't up to me.
So as I take in a confident breath, I relieve a sigh of contentment.
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