Monday, October 25, 2010

Flying Buns and Racing Sausages

no, I don't know who this lady is...
Leaving the store...
Yes it was for real.  And very funny besides.  The girls and I needed to make a quick stop for some items at the local warehouse club store.  The time in the store was basically uneventful except for the samples of grapes, chicken, sausages, and cake that the girls wolfed down.  As we got near the check lanes I quickly nabbed one that looked like the least wait.  And it was.  We got checked out in record time and then I looked up.  There were the racing sausages!  If you're not from the area, you're probably wondering what a 'racing sausage' is.  Yes, it could be a sausage rolling off your flimsy paper plate at a picnic.  Or it could be a sausage that causes you much gastrointestinal discomfort and causes you to race to the bathroom.  But in this case, they are famous.  They are the Racing Sausages!  They come out at the bottom of the 6th inning at every home game of the Milwaukee Brewers.  There are five of them.  The brat, the Italian, the Polish, the hot dog, and the chorizo.  They are in these super-tall costumes and race to the finish line at home games.  Anyway, two of the fellows were walking by and Rayna grabs my camera to head off to take some shots of the two there.  So I get out of the check lane and into the next line to wait for the elderly lady to put a little highlighter on my receipt saying I didn't steal a big-screen tv or something.  And right behind me I heard muttering.  There was a middle-aged man about 50.  His two 'cool-cat' sons.  Nice haircuts.  A small glittery earring on the left lobe of each.  Good-looking guys really.  With a LOT of attitude.  And vocal besides.  'Why do we have to wait?  Lets walk up to the front.  We just have two bags of buns.'.  The slightly irritable father of this super-slick-cool dude says, 'we just wait our turn like everyone else'.  A heavy sigh.  He was much too important and busy to wait in line with us other schlups that were buying goods for the family (or in my case, a funeral supper).  So I meet up with my excited daughters at the front entrance.  Brat-man and Hot-dog man were both standing out front posing for pictures.  And out comes middle-aged dad, Cool Cat #1 and Cool Cat #2.  Now based on mere 30 sec. of observation, Cool Cat #1 lacked a bit of common sense and it was revealed within moments.  He was celebrating walking out the door after his 'long' wait.  And how you ask?  He started to swing 36 yeast rolls in a very flimsy bag in huge circles over his head and you guessed it!  BUNS!  Raining down from the heavens!  Flying sideways through the air.  And the best part?  Dropping down on an innocent 60-year old lady in her Buick Le Sabre.  She was not impressed and started to yell.  Low-key middle-aged father saw the fiasco and kept walking to his car.  Cool Cat #1 was yelling at his Cool Cat #2 brother to come help him pick up the buns that were scattered hither and yon all over the front entrance.  Even the Racing Sausages gave pause to look at what was happening.  Buns were getting run over.  Cool Cat #1 wasn't feeling so 'cool' at that moment.  And so... he had to go back.  Into that store. To buy more buns.  And to stand in the line again.  And he thought he was too 'cool' for that.  It was beautiful.  And a you-had-to-be-there moment.  Hope you feel like you were.

6 comments:

  1. Justice served! :) But where are the pictures of the running sausages? I want to see!!!

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  2. Thank you... my day is complete now. :)

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  3. Haha. That made me feel a tiny bit better!

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  4. Thanks for the laugh, and yes, I did have the whole scene playing out in my head!!

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  5. haha, that's great! Thanks for the re-play--Should've switched to video real quick tho... :D

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  6. I could see it and I did get a laugh! Thanks!
    The story reminds of when Phyllis and someone else were walking down the sidewalk (!) in Kyiv. A car came up behind them and the driver began to honk impatiently- get out of my way. So they stepped to the side to let him pass (never mind that the sidewalk in most places is for the pedestrians). The jammed on the gas and plowed straight into a solid cement planter...which suffered no damage whatsoever. The same could not be said for his beautiful black machine, though... hahaha
    every now and again there is a measure of poetic justice right before our eyes!

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