Weed in Madras

So Angela and I are like at this Shell Station on the outskirts of Madras. Were on our way back from a short trip to Bend for the day with Katie and Sarah. It was a truck stop, supposedly said the sign. The gas lady wore an oversized shirt with a semi-truck covering the back, on top of tight black pants that settled on some thick, white sketchers. She had bleached long hair and chunky bangs, and crinkled skin. I think she might have been in her 40’s, but her body aged her to be much older.

So anyways, this gas lady, she comes to my door to get my card and I dig through my purse on my lap. Because my window is broke my door is open,and when  the contents of my purse go spilling out the lady yells a four letter word out of shock. She leans in for a closer look at the little baggies of mysterious green loose leaf laying unmarked.

“If I didn’t know better I’d think that was some’tin else! I mean, I have no problem using the stuff I just would not flaunt it like that!” Her crooked yellow teeth showed some serious substance abuse behind thin, sad lips.

“OH!” I responded … Its loose leaf tea I bought today! I opened it and showed her the label. “You want to smell?” She stepped back to start pumping my gas and was for the first time since our meeting at an appropriate arm length away from me.  She proceeded to babble on about how ****ing stupid people are and that is really all we are as humans anyways. Her mumblings became muffled as she walked across the empty lot to pick up a stick to shove in my gas tank to make the nozzle stay in. Angela and I just sat and like looked at each other.

I told her of my desire for Pumpkin lattes, and how I don’t like Starbucks, but I do like Dutch Bros. except they are not getting the holiday flavors until next Saturday. That is why I had this loose leaf tea. I got some pumpkin spice Chai to enjoy this week. I nodded in agreement that there are a lot of stupid decisions in the world. I noticed that she wore no wedding band, but did wear several clanky gold rings on fingers laden with long burgundy nails.  Her hands were wary, they told a story of sadness and pain, hands that had seen a lot of stupid people.

Angela and I  ate pretzel sticks and wondered how much longer we were going to be on this “quick stop off” that was interfering with our timing the length of our trip. In the back of my mind, I observed the lady, her dress, her words, her empty laugh. I was sad that she only had seen stupid people and that she liked her substances. I was sad as I drove away laughing about her. How many like her are there? And we like, don’t even have the time to go beyond the shallowness.