Bacon Scrapins – “Patience!”
by Barry S. Wolfe
Bacon Scrapins are the little bits of meat left in the greasy fry pan. They’re tasty, but the nutrition needs searching for. This tale is a bacon scrapin.
The citizens in the city closest to our ‘nine-stop-signs-sized’ community are fairly patient folks.
We go into the city maybe once a week only, because we can get almost everything we need in town near here. But, the 2-4 cent discount, if you use your Gasco card, is an attraction. You know the spot. You can’t use the pump unless you insert a Gasco card first.
You have to circle into it, like landing at O’Hara, take the out ramp to the fringes of the airport-sized lot, and then cruise slowly into line. Not one line, or two lines. There are usually 8 lines, all backed up 6 to 8 deep. That first decision, which lane, is the most stressful part of the whole gasing up process. You have to act fast. Which is the shortest? Which is moving fastest? Which has a big truck and goes as fast as 3 cars? The permutations are mind-bending. As a graduate of Disneyland, I just go the leftest I can.
I’m not nosey, but polite folks would describe me as inquisitive. When I’m sitting there in line, I tend to look around at my neighbours – also sitting there waiting their turn. The usual posture is eyes straight ahead, one hand hanging on the steering wheel. Another is with head down toward their lap, probably texting or checking email. Some are obvious – the phone is held up and the thumbs are churning out data.
If a car has two in it, they’re casually chatting. The luxury sports cars are 90% guys over 60, hands at the bottom of the wheel, being cool, and sometimes casually looking around to see if anyone other than me is looking at them and their fancy car. If we make eye contact, he turns forward again before I can wave from my SUV.
In spite of all the rumours, I have never seen anyone, man or woman, fixing their makeup. Yes, there are a few who turn the rearview mirror towards themselves to check if their eyes are still open after a long day, but never with makeup.
The thing is, everyone, I mean everyone, is just waiting. Just waiting their turn. The vehicle ahead moves up, they gently move up accordingly. No putting their bumper up close to the one ahead. Heads turn to check whether the neighbour’s lane is moving faster, but they all seem to progress in unison. Everyone knows that they’re going nowhere except forward, slowly. Everyone is patient.
As I write this, I’m on my back patio, knit toque on, coat bundled, my face soaking up the vitamin D from the sun as I try to get my mind back into “patient” mode. I have a once-in-5-years cold. I tested for covid – I’m clean. My nose drains down my throat, I cough and my body shakes. When my body shakes my head throbs from the pressure of the cough and I’ve got a pounding headache. As I press my fingers against my bulging temples I am at the limits of my patience as I think ahead of sitting in the sun under blue skies on the Florida sugar sands, cold one in hand.
I am sooooooo impatient to get these hacking days behind me!!!!
All the characters are fictional!
You may email appropriate comments for the writer to thisiswilmot@gmail.com
