Mail Trail (is a true street name! This place cracks me up!) was callin’ our name; so, we hopped, sliiiiiid (see that road of ice? That ain’t no photo shop!), and then inched our way on down to the post office where an ENTIRE polar cub winter wardrobe collection was awaiting us. (Thank you to our clothier, Grandma Ghee. We would be butt naked in Alaska if it weren’t for you).
The guy in front of me in the post office line looked just like this. Well, he wishes he looked just like this. I wanted to take his picture sooo badly, but haven’t yet figured out a way to say, “Can I take your picture because no one outside these city limits will believe someone is actually walking around looking like you do right now in this 2010th year.”
I didn’t say that.
Instead, I watched him do the chin-up mane shake out (you know, feign interest in something on the ceiling tiles, lift the chin and shake your locks) about 93 times.
By the time the mail lady (a funny word combo, “mail lady” because she’s a female not male, but in the mail business, anyway ..), by the time the mail lady (ML) called him forth, the 1982 Bon Jovi Wannabe’s (BJW) hair was perfectly feathered.
And this is how their conversation went (This innerchange replay will go better if you have modern english challenged people mumble each part, or just kinda’ run through it without opening your mouth any more than 2 cm.):
ML: “How’s the roads?”
BJW: “Fine. ‘Cept the new people.” (what? and excuse me!)
ML: “Damn chichacos.” (What? and excuse me!)
BJW: “Got stuck behind one of ’em goin’ 5 the last 2 miles here.”
ML: mmm hmmm
WHAT? And excuse me! You know who BJW was “stuck behind?” ME! And, I was going WAY more than five miles an hour! (like 10!)
You know what I said? I said, “Keep your stone washed jeans on buddy!” No, I didn’t. I’m just kidding.
I said, “Hold your mooses, Bon Jovi! And hold the hairspray while you’re at it!” Nope. Didn’t say that either.
What I really said was, “I’m slow?! You’re like two decades behind.”
Nope. Didn’t say that at all.
But I shoulda! I mean, it’s my life! And it’s now or never! And, I’m not gonna live forever. (But I did live through the 2-20 minutes my self-assertive self and I spent together hiding in the bathroom until we were sure BJW was looong gone.)
And then? I hopped (ok, inched) right back on to Mail Trail and carried forth toward a totally rad day.
This is one Damn Chichaco just Livin on a Prayer,