Wolf Whistle

Being a part of a distinct minority in a developing nation, I grew to somewhat detest the frequent wolf whistles that the locals would emit whenever they saw a foreign woman.

(Not as much as I despised the derogatory "hee-hongh" donkey sound that some of them would make at any person of far east Asian heritage.)

Today, I was standing in line at WalMart behind a woman who had a cart that was overflowing with junk. I really do mean overflowing. Things kept falling out of it. And junk. Candy, chocolate, plastic toys galore.

She said she was stocking up for Christmas.

Right.

And she was checking out in multiple transactions.

Needless to say, we were standing in line a very long time. That's what I get for stopping at WalMart at lunchtime.

Thankfully, B was having a great time munching on a snack and flirting with the girl in line behind us. As do most hip-and-with-it people nowadays (ha ha ha), she had her iPhone out, and was text messaging frequently as we all waited for the Christmas shopper to be done checking out.

While we were waiting, I kept hearing someone wolf whistling. The first couple times, I glanced around to see who had the audacity to be so completely obnoxious.

Then I realized it was her phone.

And you know what?

It didn't make it any better to realize that it wasn't an actual person!

Isn't it funny how there are certain sights, smells, and sounds that trigger emotional reactions within us? Like how a certain song will remind you of an old friend or a certain perfume will remind you of that old lady who sat ten rows behind you in church and you could still smell her.

These two perfumes will always make me think of my mom. She didn't wear them often, spritzing them on for special occasions. But the image of the familiar bottles sitting on her vanity is forever in my memory.

Thankfully, she was a very nice girl (the girl at the store, not my mom), other than her unfortunate text message note. We chatted about the lines, how good B was being, and so forth until it was finally my turn to check out.

As I pulled up to the traffic light outside the store, she was right behind me.

In a BMW.

What a luxurious life, man.

Anyway, all this to say, thanks to a ridiculously long wait in line at WalMart, I learned something about myself.

Thanks, WalMart.