. America's modern equal to the bazaar
. Screaming children, economy sized tubs of mayo
, and lines stretching for miles upon miles. It's generally hell on anyone forced to put up with it, especially when they're making just scrap above minimum wage
. For the consumer
, though, it's heaven: one can procure anything from magnum
s of wine
to swimming pools full of Nutella
to the Qur'an
on tape. One time, as my friend Tim
and I made our way around the store, we kept passing this scowly girl who looked like she had just been laid off or given a horrible disease or something. While in one of the enormous lines, Tim looked in our heapingly full basket and said, "Oh, crap. I forgot toilet paper." I offered to go get it and set off in the general direction of the dead tree section on the other side of the store.
On the way, I passed scowly girl and said, "Pardon me, but can you tell me where the toilet paper is?" She sighed a little "this is beneath me" sigh, and pointed in the direction I was originally headed. "Thanks!" I shouted, and ran off to secure some major 2-ply action.
As I was carrying the sixty or so rolls of TP (hefted above my head) back to the line, I spotted scowly girl again and decided to give a last ditch effort to cheering her up. I ran up to her, and said, out of breath and full of desperation, "Hey... now can you tell me where the bathrooms are?"
Frightened, she pointed them out. I ran off in that direction laughing, when I heard her shout, "Hey!"
I stopped and turned around. She was smiling. "Thanks," she said. I nodded and continued about my merry way. The world was a better place, and it was all thanks to toilet humor.