The Land of the Hicks

So, we were standing there in the scorching northern heat. We had to wait until one o’clock for the parcel customer service office to open up. I dressed sharp, trying to do some Crockett action, but my colors were too dark. A lady with a blown-out knee stepped out of her white Mercedes Benz SUV, and she started chatting with the guy in front of us. Poor man had a rough 23 — lost his pops and his old lady that same year. He was making breakfast for his father when the older man asked him for help changing his t-shirt. His father died in his arms then a there. The Chicago man told the high roller lady that his wife died seven months after she got a liposuction surgery in Colombia — God rest her soul, her heart gave out.

To my other side was a guy talking about some car, spark plugs and such. He had the whole greasemonkey attire on and all, and white sunglasses.

The parcel service lady finally opened up; she didn’t seem so well versed in the art of customer service. The whole place looked like a mess. Probably be nightmarish to work there. Anyway, she had a tattoo of two pink, long nailed salon hands with the pinkies hugging, like making a promise. She almost dropped our Chicago man’s package, who prior to his convo with the bougie lady, was talking to his new dentist squeeze. Apparently, the dentist is an old flame rekindled shortly after his wife’s death. Hey, I ain’t nobody to judge. Anyway, the bougie lady said her husband is also a dentist.

We finished our biz and got the hell outta there. I went to the bookstore and got to thinking how some hick churchgoers lack some fundamental morals like handing some change to someone down on his luck on the street. What if that was them? Or not being courteous to a lady who wants to have a quick chat about a Christian book, probably trying to spread a positive message. Saying some crap like “What am I going to do with that book? Wipe my ass with it? If I wanna read something, I’ll read the Bible.” Do people like that actually read the Bible? Do they possess any self-awareness or critical thinking at all? Do they listen to themselves talk? It comes off as barbaric.

Anyway, maybe the stuff I overhear, and witness come from people who are in a bad mood and are not thinking straight. It’s just surprising when I hear questionable things from people I least expect it from. But anyway, I ain’t no one to judge — I’ve done, said, and thought my fair share of stupidity. Guess I learned today that some wisdom isn’t wisdom at all — gotta be careful who we let influence us, especially when we’re young and dumb. Then I looked at all those books and I just marveled at how all those people sat down to write all that stuff down. And I kept marveling at how the best way to understand the world, the Universe, and people, and Life is through stories. A thought revisited once again; encountered on countryside walks. In the land I grew up in, the land of the hicks.