"Hey Ken, check this out," I say to my favorite convenience store clerk early this morning.
I hold up yesterday's paper and there is a mention of him calling the police the other night in that D.U.I. with the kids in the car.
"No shit?" he says as he smiles incredulously and grabs the paper from me.
"You're a hero, dude," I say as I drink my decaf and watch patrons parade to the counter with the coffee.
"I'm gonna have this framed," he says, beaming.
"It is just a mention," I reply.
"Still," he says. "I am in the newspaper."
Our small town paper isn't much. They love crime drama and if you get a D.U.I. you get a mention. When I had my drunken accident on my motorcycle above the cotton mill on the road they wrote a paragraph about me. It embarrassed my family to death.
"What are you doing when you get off?" I then ask my favorite clerk.
"Sleep," he says. "I should have been off an hour ago. This time change is kicking my ass."
I laughed and agreed. It has been kicking my ass as well. I left the store with my mug filled with coffee and my backpack upon my back. I was just about to leave the parking lot when someone came walking out of the convenience store and hollered at me. It was Ken.
"Sorry about the beer thing the other night," He says loudly. "I didn't think you were really an alcoholic."
"Shush," I reply loudly as I put my finger to my lips. "Don't tell the whole world."
We both laughed and I walked on home. I don't know why I am so shy about strangers in my real life knowing that when I blather about it upon this blog so openly and readily. Just another strange variance of life it seems.