7-11, a crackhead, and pajamas.
So it’s 2:45 am. I forgot to eat all day, and I’m in my apartment watching Seinfelds. I own every episode on DVD, and to try and bring myself out of my deep, dark depression, I have turned to relentlessly watching these episodes. But, it made me forget to eat. I haven’t eaten much in the last couple months, but I do get to where I can sense low blood sugar, and my body tells me, “Well, if you do want to stay alive, you better eat something.”
So here I go to 7-11, or as I like to refer to it “the fridge”. I don’t keep perishables in my house. So I buy almost everything I eat as needed. Now for 8 years in my apartment, I’ve never gone out of the house to go shopping in my pajama bottoms. Today was the day. I usually go in jeans, shorts, or sweats, but I don’t currently have sweats, it’s too cold for shorts, and when I found myself staring at my jeans for what must have been 4 or 5 straight minutes, I snapped out of it and decided, well shit, I’m going as is. So on went the baseball cap and the jacket and the Birkenstocks, and out I went.
On my way I almost yelled, “Why don’t you fuckin’ people just shut it!” to my neighbors whoa re partying inside the lesbian apartment. I’m all for people trying to have fun, but Jesus, it’s nearly 3 am on what for most would be a workday. Plus these bitches are singing out of tune and yelling incoherently. I guess I’m just a little mad because they really are lesbians, so the opportunity to go knock on the door and join the party full of drunk chicks is lost on me.
As I rounded the corner from my walk way to the main sidewalk, I looked to my left and approaching was a brunette wearing lightly colored pants. Very lightly colored. I sort of thought to myself they might be pajama bottoms, but she was too far away, and at three o’clock I wasn’t gonna stand there and wait for her. So I trip my ass down the street and as I round the corner in front of 7-11, I spot this dude who looked like he was just finishing up wind sprints in the parking lot. He was the spitting image of my friend Kenny, and he was kinda babbling. He got to the door and I instinctively slowed my pace as to delay my own arrival at said door. Upon entering the convenience establishment, it’s just him and Akbar, or Mojumbi, or whatever the 7-11 dude’s name is. I wave to the attendant and proceed to fish about for my diet soda and sandwich and some sort of pastry treat. I can hear this guy talking. Is he talking to me? I don’t know. Just then the woman stalking me, I mean who was walking behind me 150 yards entered the store. She had on pajama bottoms. I don’t know if it was because she came in just then or because of other factors, but this is when I decided this guy was on crack or something. He became MUCH louder and started apologizing to the Gatorade.
I became slightly uneasy. He looked at me and started to apologize to ME. I couldn’t really understand him but he was trying to impart his apologies for his attitude and demeanor I believe. I mustered a half smile (I think), but all I could think about is if this guy starts some shenanigans, I’m not bolting. I’m gonna fuckin’ throw down. I’m gonna beat up, and if I have to, take out a crack fiend. But then he just started (for lack of a better term) making love to the Gatorade. No. Seriously. I mean he started caressing the bottles and making sounds I found familiar when I thought maybe that’s what I sound like when I jack off. I’m not sure I do. I probably don’t. I don’t. I’m quiet.
So I take my stuff to the counter and this girl was one of these people who gets a few items at a time and stacks them at the register and then proceeds to do more shopping. See I have this theory that if you’re in 7-11 buying more than you can carry in your hands, you’re fucked up in the head. I gotta meet this girl.
We met at the counter and I made the silent ‘go ahead’ gesture and she said, “Oh no, I’m not ready, but you go ahead.” Incidentally, exactly what my prom date said. Anyhoo… I asked, “Are you… Are you wearing pajama bottoms?”
“Why yes I am.”
I lifted my leg to show her I was too.
She smiled.
I might have, I don’t remember.
Then I looked up to complete my purchases and crackfucker was STANDING WITH THE 7-11 GUY! The 7-11 person looked very, very nervous and my only thought was that some or most of my blood may soon be on this linoleum floor here. I don’t know why, but I asked crackerfucker, “Oh, do you work here?” Dude tuned into Kramer. He just kinda did that blowing air out sound while grabbing his head in general disbelief. I was thrilled both at the coincidence that I was just home watching Seinfeld and this guy’s doing Kramer, and the fact that injury was most likely a little further away.
He walked away from the 7-11 guy and returned to mumbling and creating relationships with various and sundry foodstuffs.
Pajama girl came back over and just gave me that ‘We’re a team if shit happens right?’ look. I told her it was nice meeting her. She reciprocated adding that the next time we should meet in the street, we should shoot for MATCHING pajamas.
Never got her name. I’m kinda stupid that way. I always used to think that I never met girls, but now I’m starting to realize I meet a ton of girls, I’m just not an aggressor. I always assume girls hate me anyway. the last time Iknew a girl liked me, I was fucking her. She gave me a perfect opening (and in the face of possible mortal danger) and all I did was leave. Now that I think about it, I can either ask the 7-11 guy next time if he knows who she is, or I can just go out on the street every night at 3 am in my pajama bottoms. Who knows.
Anyway, that’s the story of 7-11, a crackhead, and pajamas. Oh and a girl who might have wanted to talk to me and/or get to know me that I completely blew off because I’m so much the idiot.
All right. Back to Jerry and the gang…
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Comments
I don’t know if I could go to sleep after such an accident. Did you?
Well, I watched more Seinfeld episodes, but eventually did go to sleep after curling up into the fetal position and sobbing for an hour. I like to do that nightly.
pajama bottoms in public? How dare you!
Hey, it got me outta the house.
I laughed at the part where you said you don’t have sweats. I think someone should get you a new hat.
You don’t like my hat? Do you even know which one I’m talking about?
that was entertaining. i met a crackhead once his name was willy
willy the can man HA!
and then you stabbed larry.
Robby, you should have bought some new sweats at ShopKo!
Soccer - I musta told you about a pair of sweats I bought at ShopKo that I threw away finally about 2 or 3 years ago eh? Yeah I had those for like 17 years or something, but they finally got too many holes and whatnot. Is that what you’re talking?
Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. I don’t think I want to know what “whatnot” on your sweats means! Maybe you should have driven “all the way over to the North Side” to check out if they were on sale at Fred Meyers!
Hey. You should be lucky enough to experience my whatnot.
i wish funny things like this would happen to me. maybe they do, but i can never write about them in a way that makes it funny to other people. also, i don’t live that close to a 7-11.
So kate, even though you don’t live near 7-11, just go out into the street in your pajama bottoms at 3am. Trust me, as a woman, you’ll have a WAY MORE fun(ny) time than me.
So did you meet her again?
Not yet Alex.
I had a simular experience once. I was at a party in my block of flats, wearing nothing but a dressing gown and some slippers. I see this girl wearing a dressing gown too, so I got talking to her. I was pretty drunk, so she wrote her name and room number on my hand so I wouldn’t forget her. I remembered the room number, but not her name. I was too embarrassed to ever knock on the door and ask for the girl fitting her description. Still, I feel for us both man. Better luck next time eh?
Yeah Mike, here’s to next time. Cheers.
That was a pretty good read you should post it on storg.net
OK walrus, I did.
Glad to see I am not the only one that goes to the corner store (or in my case the 24-hour gas station) in PJ’s
unfortunately, I am not the girl you are after 
I would of remembered a crack-head talking to gatorade. Ho hum tis a shame because you (like yours truly) sounds incredibly lonely…
I am incredibly lonely. INCREDIBLY lonely. I’m so glad it’s obvious.
i drove to the shell station at 2 in the morning in the rain one time in my pajamas to get 5 hour evergy drinks for a lan. people who work in alabama gas stations at 2 in the morning are the scariest people in the world. they’re already crazy to take the job and they get no human contact all night.
Alabama… Scary!
aw you didn’t make it that obvious (ok Seinfield did it) hey come to Australia bring your Seinfield collection you and I will sit and watch them together then go see the guy that works the grave yard shift at the gas station together in our pj’s.
P.S. i worked at a gas station, i often chose graveyard because im nocturnal. but im completely sane. i promise
Australia and 90 hours of Seinfeld. That sounds like wuite the adventure. As soon as I win the lottery, I’m there.
Ha..I like the story. I used to work the night shift at a 7-11 in south park area of san diego. Anyone who lived there from 1998 to 2003 knows what kind of area it was. Many interesting nights. I loved to mess with the tweekers who came in at around 3. they would be spun out of there minds just staring at the items on the shelves in a dreamlike state after being up for days on end. I had a tape of random sounds of nature like birds chirping and woodpeckers etc that i would play in the back of the store and act like i didnt hear anything. fun times
Jason, I like the idea that you fucked with people who were disoriented. Good stuff!
90 hours of Seinfield FTW! I will have the alcohol at the ready
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