This was late 70s. My closest friend was a woman 20 yrs older than I was. I took to her the second I met her. She was like no one I had ever met before. An artist with wild black hair and black eye shadow, wealthy but down to earth. She was married to someone quite the opposite of her. They were an odd match, but he was quite ok with our friendship. I was about 19 at the time, she 39. We decided to take a road trip to another town about an hour away for an art festival. About 20 minutes out of town, we decided to stop and get breakfast at an independently owned restaurant. We were in a hick town. We knew the town was a bunch of country rednecks, but it’s so close to the town we lived, we figured it would be ok.
Dusty Baker get on the mound little fucka shirt
We’re out of coffee. She said this while holding a pot of coffee in her hand. My friend and I looked at each other dumbfounded. I didn’t stand up to people then like I do now. So here we are, staring at each other in disbelief. We started looking around the packed restaurant . Every single eye was on us. We decided to eat at the festival which would be our kind of people. So we go down the road another 10 minutes and I see a Walgreens drugstore. Please stop, I need something to munch on. We walk in the door, and right in front of us a locked glass case filled with guns, knives, stars, brass knuckles. They didn’t sell that at our Walgreens in the city. We just grabbed a bag of chips, paid and ran.
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