Carlsbad
New Mexico
July 2013
1
We stay the night in Carlsbad, New Mexico, where we need to resupply. The only remotely convenient store that has the essentials we need — fresh fruit, electrolyte drinks, chocolate — is a Walmart store. There are a number of reasons I don’t like Walmart stores but now is not the time to get into it. We bite the bullet and enter the retail establishment.
Well, okay, I will tell you one reason.
Shopping in this Walmart we see many… hefty people. I’m not the first person to say this out loud. I’m not talking about pleasantly plump or Thanksgiving stuffed, but rather we’re looking at the corpulent plethora of superfluity who have difficulty getting into and out of their cars because there is just too much of them. These are the folks who threaten to have myocardial infarctions when the elevator is out of service.
Not to be judgmental.
I also don’t like kids who scream and it seems that a lot of them come to Walmart. Perhaps they come to Walmart to scream. Being in Walmart makes me want to scream.
Yes, I am sometimes critical. I want them to eat better. It’s none of my business.
There. I’ve given you more than one reason I shun Walmart.
Bear with me, I’m not done complaining. Today’s award-winning human impersonator is the brain surgeon who is working the register next to ours. She rings up a jar of baby food and tosses it into the shopping cart. You know, don’t you, that baby foods are often packaged in little glass jars. She rings up the next jar and again tosses it into the cart. You know, don’t you, that many shopping carts are made of hard metal. Third jar? Tosses it into the cart. Glass jar #3 lands on glass jar #2 and — would you believe it! — both jars break! There is a dramatic splash of squash, or possibly sweet potatoes or carrot mush, mixed in with glass shards, flying onto the floor and onto two customers. Bewildered, the cashier’s comment is, “That keeps happening.”
I wonder when the learning will kick in.
2
Carlsbad, New Mexico. Chili’s for dinner, the only convenient restaurant we can find in the area, although we do like their margaritas. We are waiting outside the front door with a number of other customers for a table to open up. The wait is long but now that winter is over and it is warm, we sit out here in T-shirts and shorts, nature’s perfect fashion ensemble.
I can’t help but notice a nearby guy who is eyeing us. Finally he makes his move, ambles over and starts the conversation. I knew this was gonna happen — oh why! why! (Remember I don’t like people.) I can recall only three things he said to us: 1) He has an extensive resumé of volunteer work. 2) He and his wife originally come from Sharon, Pennsylvania, about an hour north of Pittsburgh. 3) It is she who is the Steelers fan. Oh? She’s a Steelers fan? Here in New Mexico. We’ll let them live.
3
We’re in Carlsbad, New Mexico for a short layover. Our hike yesterday on the plains of Black Mesa in Oklahoma was exposed so we both felt the burn last evening. Did we have hats? Yep. Did we wear them? Nope. I’m wondering when the learning will kick in.
The next day on our way out of Carlsbad, we patronize a Big 5 Sporting Goods store with the intention of finding hats that will protect our heads during our next hike, and considering our current sunburns, forevermore. Even though we both have ball caps, we choose to get new toppers with a larger breadth to cover our necks too. We may be dumb, but we’re not stupid.
We find two floppy hats on the rack — perfect — and then notice the large glass counter next to the trying-on mirror. Under the glass of this counter, and on racks mounted on the wall behind, is an impressive display of firearms. Handguns and rifles and shotguns and what-all. I overhear the counter guy and the customer, who both seem nice enough, discussing the merits of this gun and that gun. We’re in New Mexico. People here like their guns. In an attempt to get over my anxiety about meeting strangers, I saunter on over and start a conversation. “Y’know,” I mention, kind of offhand, “President Obama doesn’t really want to take your guns away from you.” No, I don’t do that. I don’t do that at all.
