The Pilot Truck Stop.

I approached the counter with three items. The cashier was a magnificent, tall, dark haired, dark skinned lady.

"Hey there." I said with a meek smile.

I was intimidated by her aloof hello.
But as she scanned barcodes, I heard her chuckle.

" mmm.mmm.m. pepto bismol 'n ginger ale. someone 's not feeling so good. pepto bismol 'n ginger ale. you must be feeling real bad. mmm.m. ginger ale 'n pepto bismol,mmm, someone's gramma musta told them it would help. makes me throw up, and then i feel better after that. yep, sounds like gramma's looking out for you."

Her chuckle trailed off. I offered a hearty laugh.

" You've got me figured out. I'm not feeling the greatest. I suppose that's pretty obvious. Well at least you feel better after throwing up."

"yah." She said with a small smile, but returning to her aloof tone.

"receipt or a bag?"

"No thanks."

I took my pepto bismol, ginger ale, and bubblemint gum off the counter- walked my 5'4" white girl, skinny body and bland english thoughts out the door with me too. Wishing I were magnificent and dark all the way back to our big white rig.