May 1, 2006: Citrus and Cherry Scents
I was in Kentucky with Jim because his Mom had an emergency hip replacement. Jim's staying in KY a little longer. I'm at Cincinnati airport between Lexington and Atlanta flights. On my way home. I'm drinking Fosters at Max and Irma's, sitting at the far end of the bar. When I walked in a very chatty woman with long dark hair and tiny disco ball earrings offered me the seat beside her. She looks to be in her mid-twenties. A little voice inside told me to decline and I did.
"You'll be able to see the TV better from here," She said patting the bar stool's seat.
"Nah." I said.
She eyed me suspiciously and I half expected her to call me a queer. Then she turned back to the two men sitting on the other side of her.
She's sitting with two very drunk men. One is wearing a t-shirt that says "Sometimes I amaze myself." He has a Sicilian look. He's got a big belly and heavy lidded dark eyes. His face is puffy. His hands are often pushing a thin comb-over back into place. His thick southern drawl is slurred. He seems like a character I vaguely remember from Bugs Bunny cartoons.
Next to him is a man with curly red hair. He has blue eyes that remind me of the liner of my parent swimming pool. Blue pebbles. His black t-shirt says NASCAR Staff. No southern accent.
"I love NASCAR." Chatty lady says to them, rejoining their group. There is a brief conversation about NASCAR (I gather that a much longer NASCAR conversation has already happened. I also gather that these two men work for NASCAR.). "I can't believe you know Jimmy Johnson! I'm so totally into him!"
Chatty lady seems to refocus on the furniture catalogue the two men are pouring over. They crunch together closer so that they can all get clear views of the images.
"Does that come in cherry?" The red head asks.
"What you see there comes in citrus and cherry." She chirps.
"That'd look nice," the sicilian says to the red head, who nods. One of them turns a page.
"Those have some real cheery colors! Go to the website, seriously, you'll love this stuff! One day shipping from Florida!"
This seems to impress the men who nod. The sicilian mumbles something about candles.
"Candles! Here--" She takes the catalogue and flips ahead. Soon she's off and running describing in detail the company's candles, "They're the best, seriously, no one can beat them. Go to the website, seriously."
Sicilian says, "I buy all these scented candles at Christmas, but when you burn 'em they don't smell enough. Pretty soon they don't smell like nothin'"
"These candles will hold their scent until they are burnt to puddles! Even the melted wax holds the scent!" She's wagging a finger at the sicilian who raises his eyebrows.
They have reached the last page of the catalogue.
"Check out the website guys. You'll love this stuff." Last words. The catalogue is closed and remains on the bar. All three turn toward the television, which I just notice, is showing NASCAR, and in perfect synchronicity light up cigarettes and blow smoke to the ceiling.
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