My new camo hat… A bargain at $34
I am not much of a shopper. Like most men, I go into a store, get what I want, and leave.
I do, however, make an exception for some things like hunting and fishing accessories. I devour a good Cabela or Bass Pro Shop magazine; relish it like a great novel. And I love shopping at the Bass Pro Shop in Destin.
There is stuff to look at, pick up, handle, wish for, and lust over. There are hunting rifles, fishing gear, the latest gummy worms for bass, turkey fryers, smokers, and all sorts of man things; not to mention those marshmallow orange peanuts and beef jerky. What a store!
The cool weather reminded me that I needed to upgrade my hunting attire so this past Saturday, I, along with my wife and grand daughter, hit the road for Destin.
Once at the store, we walked the isles, saw some new products, and then I made a purchase.
I bought a cap; a camouflaged cap. The whole thing took about twenty minutes; tops.
Mission accomplished. It was time to head home. A perfect Saturday was shaping up.
But that was about the time my companions decided they wanted to walk through the “other” shops at the Destin Commons.
Ok, I thought. This will only take a minute. It’s early and I do have a new cap. Life is still good.
“Welcome ladies.” The clerk at the Yankee Candle Shop was on a ladder re-arranging candles and couldn’t see the front door very well.
“We are not all ladies.” I corrected.
She seemed a little embarrassed but in her defense, I am almost positive the clientele from the Bass Pro Shop in not the same as the candle shop. Most, walk out of hunter heaven and head home.
The whole store was perfumed. It was a weird concoction of cinnamon, cedar, and rose bud salve.
“Which one do you like?” my wife asked.
“I don’t know. They all smell the same. Just don’t buy anything that smells like flowers. No lilac or tulip or anything like that. Do they have leather or new car?”
I spotted a bench across the street and out I went reaching in my bag for my new cap. I placed it low on my head so I could hide from anyone seeing me coming out of the candle shop.
Once finished, they moseyed toward another shop. It was one of those high dollar stores that sell ragged and torn jeans to really cool people. Not too many camouflage hats go in that store, I thought.
“I think I will go back to the truck.” I did not want to reveal my developing impatience. “But I am not rushing you or anything. Browse all you want. I’ll be right there waiting in the truck.”
Back in my truck, I watched other people getting out of their car and heading toward the shops. I played a game by trying to guess if they were heading to the Bass Pro shop or the candle shop or the torn jean shop. Most, I decided, were going to the hunting and fishing store. Some even returned to their vehicles, bags in hand, and left. I was envious.
Soon my passengers arrived and as suspected, they bought nothing but a couple of candles.
Finally, we are heading home where I had yard chores, meat to grill, football to watch and the day is still young.
“Since we’re here, why don’t we stop by the Silver Sands Stores?”
I froze and pretended I didn’t hear. It was the equivalent of hearing that my mother in law is coming to live with us, or Bobby Bowden resigned, or fried chicken’s banned from the Golden Corral buffet. Her words were misery squared.
Silver Sands is the mother of all shopping centers. There are at least a million shops in that dang place; a merchandise Mecca. Hordes of knickers and knickknacks. Oh no!
Think, man, think! There must be a good excuse for not stopping. I thought about telling her I left the stove on or I had left the sprinklers running on my collard greens. She hates it when I waste water. Just as I was formulating my lie she pounded me with her logic.
“You know, its been a couple of years since we’ve been here and since we drove all the way over just for you to buy a cap (emphasis placed on CAP), it wont kill you to check out a couple of stores.”
She had more…
“That sure is an expensive CAP considering what you paid for fuel.”
I did the math. Nine dollar cap plus twenty five dollars for fuel.
“Ok.” I said trying not to sound defeated but I was a beaten man. My shoulders slumped and my head hung low. I had to re-adjust my cap just to see the road.
I tried to stay with them as they bounced from store to store but soon found myself sitting on the bench outside the Gap. I could see down the sidewalk that every bench was occupied by men obviously waiting impatiently for their wives or girlfriends to shop. We all sat silently but competitively watching each other to see who was lucky enough to leave first. I lost.
I could see myself in my twilight years sitting on the benches at Wal-Mart watching the blue bags and bulging butts waddle past as my wife saunters down every isle to study the most recent Chinese imports.
It felt like every eye that passed gave me a slight look of pity.
A couple came strolling by. “We passed by you a while ago and your still sitting here,” the gentleman said. “Judging by your new cap, I’ll bet you had rather be in the bush.”
Must be a tourist; a Yankee tourist, I thought. No one down here calls it the “bush.” And how does he know my cap is new.
“Yes sir,” I said. “I would rather be sitting in the tallest tree in the middle of a lightning storm than sitting here.”
“It shows,” he quipped as he strolled down the sidewalk in his white shorts, white tennis shoes, and Izod shirt. He seemed perfectly content to sashay with his wife, hand in hand, arm and arm, as if he actually enjoyed the shopping.
I thought about reporting him but I wasn’t quite sure who to report him to. Guys like him make it awfully tough on guys like me. Thank goodness my wife wasn’t here to see him.
Right when I decided to file a missing person report, my family reappeared. I didn’t waste any time getting to the truck and pointing it toward the Sand Hills. They couldn’t wait to show me all they had bought.
On the long drive home, I had plenty of time to reflect on how nice it would have been to have stayed at home; how much money I would have saved; how much fuel I would have saved; how much football I could have watched; how much meat I could have grilled.
I looked in the rear view mirror to admire my new cap. That’s when I noticed the price tag still dangling on the side. That explained the curious looks.
No matter. In the end, I was a hero for a day; a good husband and good grandfather. What’s done is done. I was actually proud of myself for not exploding with impatience. The day was a lot like my recent colonoscopy. It was horrible drinking all that liquid flush but once it was over, it really wasn’t all that bad.
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About Me
The life of any News Director is stressful most days... so, when the weekend rolls around I find myself on the back roads of our bountiful and beautiful part of the state looking for bluegrass music, interesting things to do, and, of course, fried chicken. I will try to share some of these "finds" with you. There are a thousand stories left to be told or simply remembered. Don't expect to find them all here; maybe just a little stroll down memory lane or maybe a little skewed insight into topical issues.
Larche Hardy,
News Director
Recent Entries:
- Marty Raybon and Georgia Bluegrass
- Curse of the Acoustic Guitar
- A Millville Hero
- Bluegrass at BAMA JAM a hit!
- Bird watching not a bore
- No Poet Laureate
- Let the Bluegrass begin
- Hurry Spring
- Alabama’s Highway 52
- Cell Phone Interuptus
- Bellying up to the bar
- Resolutions are Doomed to Failure
- Bah-dad-gum-Humbug
- A hunting we will go!
- Hot Stuff!
Other News13 Blogs:
- The Casual Historian - Larche Hardy
- Behind The Scenes - Heather Kretzer
- The Resident Gator - Megan Albright
- The Newby - Jessi Chapin
- Bloggin' From The Beach - Bree Sison
- Gainesville, Georgia's All American Girl - Tuquyen Mach
- ... and yes, my hair is naturally curly - Jessica Foster
- Derby Girl - Enocha Van Lierop
- Cracker Cat - Jeannie Weller
