Something That Scares the Excrement Out of Me

When I was in college, I was known to frequent a burrito establishment that provided me with delicious sustenance and was open 24 hours a day. I would go there late at night, get my California burrito with sour cream, and allow my mouth to water just long enough to stop at the 7-11 on the way back to the dorms. Why 7-11 you ask? I needed something to drink, and I got more drink for less money from 7-11. I tended to get a mixture of Mountain Dew and Dr. Pepper in at least a Super Big Gulp if not a Double Gulp because it was just that delicious.

However, in order to imbibe the sweet, sweet nectar, I needed to pay for it first. The man who worked at 7-11 when I was in college had a shaved head, goatee, listened to heavy metal, and often wore sweatshirts that had the acronym "S. E. O. D.", which I came to find out meant "Speak English or Die."

Now, for part of the time that I was in college, I dated a young lady who was Mexican, and we would often go on these burrito runs together, and every time that we stopped to get a drink, I feared for her life (although apparently not enough to go to a different 7-11. What do you want? It was on the way.).

Flash forward to last night. I had been summoned by the gf who was working with a group of students at the college to provide refreshment in the form of burritos and soda. Naturally, this got me thinking about my college experience, and I was reminded of the man who worked at the 7-11. I wondered if he still worked there, and I hoped very much that he didn't.

Let me tell you something about myself; I weigh probably about two-fifty, have a goatee, a shaved head, and very blue eyes, so you would think that I, of all people, would have the least to worry about from this man. Nevertheless, when I pulled up to that 7-11, and saw him inside, I very nearly emptied the contents of my colon into my pants. I seriously considered just driving away, but as I pulled up, he made eye contact, and I thought that that would be weird for me to drive away after him seeing me. White supremacist or not, the man has feelings!

So I walk in, and the refrain of the song that he has playing on his stereo was something to the effect of, "Say hi to the final solution." All I can think is, "Did that song really say what I think it just said? Is everybody okay with that?"

However, fortunately, he was nice enough to me, though just gruff enough to make me wonder if he was upset that I hadn't been coming to the meetings. He even offered me a drink holder. I don't really care though; with any luck, I'll never go back to that place again, unless I am once again summoned for a food run, and then I guess I'll have to take one for the team, because apparently putting one's life on the line is what one does for the team. I would question how I got on this team, and what the team has ever done for me that I must take one for it, but I suspect that the team would not like me asking such questions.