Curb-Service Mattress

Curb-Service Mattress-1If I didn’t know better, I would’ve sworn I was tele-ported to some coastal city on the Baltic Sea after being out in this weather today.  These dark drizzly nights are the most dangerous when driving because of the drizzle being combined with fog. While on my way to work in it this morning, it was a good thing I looked far enough ahead to notice two people walking a dog in the near middle of the street.  What made it even more dangerous for them, they had dark clothes on with no reflective colors.  It’s almost a miracle there aren’t more pedestrians being hit by cars while out walking in the darkness and wearing near camouflage outerwear.  Oh, and the dog they were walking was even of a dark color.

I’m keeping my lips zipped every time I read about the futile progress Gatehouse is making with their proposed buildout of the Southbridge Parking Lot Hotel.  I’m just hoping our City Council doesn’t take a “blind trust” approach to this whole business, because I have a “feeling” there’s definitely something very wrong about it. Only the future knows the rest of the story.

Two times I had to drive over to Clear Lake today on appointments, and the traffic at both times was not pleasant.  Seems I’m good at picking the busiest of hours to drive over and back.  On my return this afternoon, I decided to stop at the Casey’s near I-35.  I haven’t been in that one for a very long time, and “WOW” was there ever a big boy standing behind their raised counter.  He actually looked like the offspring from the marriage of the Pillsbury Dough Girl and Goliath.

While waiting to pay, a man standing at my right started talking to me.  His opening line was, “You’re sure well dressed.”  I glanced over at him and said, “Thank you.”  Of course he wouldn’t stop there when again asking, “What’s your job?”  I glanced over again saying, “I’m a Realtor.”  My profession was evidently his opening to tell me he’s from Utah and here for a trade show of motor homes.  A light bulb must’ve went off which caused him to say, “Hey. We’re both salesmen selling homes!  You sell the ones sitting on the ground, but I get to sell the ones with wheels.”

By that time, my wickedness was getting the best of me by replying, “Around these parts we call motor homes curb-service mattresses.”  He and his two travel buddies got a roaring laugh out of that to where I think he felt it was time to leave me alone and get back on the road.  Since he was the one that got me started, I said to the loudmouth, “Do you know why pigmies don’t like clowns?”  He paused a moment and said, “Because they’re always trying to look up their skirts.”  I almost had to laugh but kept my cool and replied, “Because they taste funny.”  All three of them walked out roaring with laughter.

Encountering that chap this afternoon was yet another reminder of the regional differences that exist in our Country, where there are un-written laws regarding social behavior.  I guess up here in Northern Iowa, we’re a bit more subdued when around strangers.  I think it has something to do with the number of our residents of Northern European descent–especially the Nordic countries. Not to be pigeon-holing them, but most times you gotta really work hard at cracking their shells before they become chatty.

I’ll likely never forget that guy’s answer to my pigmy joke.  Come to think of it, I don’t believe pigmies wear skirts.  Perhaps his mind was already in the gutter before I walked in that door. It wouldn’t surprise me if  he’s been spending too much time riding around in his brand new curb-service mattress.