Consider me edified

Photo by Robyn Lee

4:14 a.m.: Four people, a middle-aged couple and a younger couple (I'm guessing the older couple's daughter and the daughter's boyfriend), enter the store and disperse.

The younger woman is staggering and belligerent, yelling obscenities at the boyfriend.

The older woman grabs a bag of nacho chips and inspects it much too closely.

The older man walks up to the counter with a bottle of water and a pack of gum and turns, waiting for the others.

"Drunk," he says to me, gesturing to the others and making a hang loose sign with his right hand and drinking from his thumb.

"Yeah, " I say. "We see that a lot."

The younger couple approach the counter. She's wearing a dress that is much too high, and he's wearing jeans that are much too low.

"Brian!" the young man blurts. "Girl!"

"Consider me edified," I respond.

The older woman slides a bag of tortilla chips and a cup of nacho cheese onto the counter. In the process, she nearly tips over a donut display near the register.

The older man pays for all of the snacks and tries to hustle everyone out, but the older woman has a question.

"Canni get hanaaaenoes?" she asks me.

"I'm sorry, I didn't understand."

"Hnaaaenoes? Can I getem withis?"

"I'm sorry, I still don't understand what you're saying."

"I 'pligize. I'm drunk."

"Yes. I realize that."

"Halaanepeos?"

"Jalapenos?"

"Yes!"

"Sure, they're right there on the condiment counter. Help yourself."

The older man stands in the door and watches his wife navigate her way to the condiment counter. Then he looks my way and makes that same tippling motion with his hand.

Hang loose, Dude.

One Adam-12, One Adam-12, see the man

Photo by Scott Davidson

3:15 a.m.: There are no customers in the store, so I prepare to do my outside chores: Hauling out trash, recycling cardboard, sweeping up the parking lot, etc.

But, there's a car parked next to one of the pumps, and I don't dare leave the store unoccupied until the car leaves.

3:30 a.m: The car is still there. Lights on. Just sitting there. I've seen no one go in or out. No one pumped any gas.

3:35 a.m.: I stand in the window in full view of the suspicious car (a beat up, white Ford Probe) and pretend to dial the police. This works with most of the people who like to smoke pot in the parking lot. The car does not move.

3:40 a.m.: Still no movement of the car or its occupant(s). Since it's dark, and the cars' lights are on, I can't even tell if someone is in it.

3:45 a.m.: I call the police non-emergency line and ask if an officer could drive through the lot, maybe scare the car's occupants off.

3:50 a.m.: A squad car pulls up behind the Probe and an officer, one of the store's regulars, walks up to the driver's window and shines a flashlight inside.

3:55 a.m.: A second squad car pulls up. The second officer helps a young woman out of the driver's door of the Probe and the sobriety dance begins: Hold your arms straight out and touch your nose, follow the light with your eyes, stand on one foot ...

From my perspective (passing by as I took out the trash), I couldn't tell how the nose or the light test went, but I did see that "stand on one foot" was not happening.

4:10 a.m.: The woman is helped into the back seat of one of the squad cars while the other officer removes the Probe's plates and moves the beater to an out-of-the-way spot in the lot.

4:15 a.m.: The first officer on the scene comes in and asks me a few questions: name, phone, address, how long the car was in the lot, etc.

"She says she'll take care of the car when she gets out of jail, but that might be a while," the cop says. "She blew a two-one, and it's her second DUI."

Bummer for her ... just because I had to take out the trash.