Last night, I got off work around 11:30. I had intended to deliver a misaddressed package in the north end of town, so I planned to do my weekly shopping at the Weaverville Walmart. I made a wrong turn off the highway, so I stopped at McDonald’s. Just like the McDonald’s down here, it took about 26 minutes to get through the drive-thru in the midnight hour. The best part of my customer experience was waiting in the cold with the car window down, waiting for service while all inside did a countdown. Once the festivities were under control, a girl came to the window to ask what I had ordered, and it went from there.
I returned to the main drag and soon convinced myself Walmart was behind me. I attempted a U-turn, but stopped short when I saw headlights behind me. I continued on to the next street and turned at the first opportunity to get back on the main road, but I was in a dead-end alley. The person following me turned on his blue lights. I had swerved and then failed to put on my turn signal. After a long wait cutting into my beauty sleep, the officer was kind enough to direct me to Walmart, where shopping was rather uneventful.
After that, I stopped at the gas station. The nice hippie, who was working the night when I injured my foot and had a toe sticking out the side, was on-duty. He was so sympathetic then. Although his store didn’t stock first-aid tape, he helped me find a wee-hours place that did. This time, though, he had a black eye. I inquired, and he told me a few nights ago, somebody had attacked him while he was behind the counter.
