Saturday morning, game day, I wake up and go through my pre-game routine: shit, shower, shave, game day attire and ready to go. Doesn’t take a whole lot to care for my fairly short blonde hair, mustache and goatee topping my 5’11” 200 pound frame. I gather my tailgate alcoholic beverages, put them in the cooler, and load up the car. I just need to make one stop before heading to the stadium for the day: the gas station for a bag of ice and my usual pre-game juice for hydration.
I pull up to the station – gasoline level is good, so let’s just head in. Walk in the front door and turn to see Alice, a slightly weathered brunette with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth, my usual Saturday morning cashier, and say, “Hey there lady! Ready for the game?”
A quick smile forming around that cigarette as she replies, “You know it! Go get ‘em!” Smiling, I turn straight for the ice, grab a bag and put it under my arm, then turn to the juice section of the cooler. Looks like they are out of my usual pre-game drink. Hmm, maybe there’s some in the cooler that just hasn’t been stocked? I look at Alice and point in the cooler. She just nods and points, then returns to helping the customer at her register, cigarette smoke wafting up around her head.