Brief Moment in Walmart

A few weeks ago, I made the innocent mistake of shopping for new underwear in Walmart. Not that Sam Walton’s family needed my money but in a tattered sort of way I needed underwear, a brief trip in the making. I found my way back to the men's department with no encroachments. I eyed the prize – colored underwear size 40-42 with an expandable waistline for buffet eating. The Fruit of the Loom undees would be mine in no time. I was almost out of the department, when I felt a rabid tug on my arm. I turned to find two elderly women, neither of whom looked to be a day older than ninety. They looked Walmart lost. Maybe they got conked over the head with one of those prices falling signs. “Sonny, can you help me?” I have come to tolerate the term ‘Sonny” when it emanates from someone my senior. I got to tell you though; I cringe at the name of Sonny. Add a nasal voice and prunish wrinkles to the speaker and I am at nausea. “Can you show me where the men’s pajamas are? We can’t find them.” “You know I don’t work here, don’t you?” Double negatives ruined their first impression of me. “Sonny, in case you hadn’t noticed, there isn’t anyone working in this department.” She complained to deaf ears. “Now I know you can help two old ladies.” She stated the obvious. We briefly circled the brief department as the women did their Sunday best to keep up the pace. The sick Far Side of me refrained from yelling “Bingo” to see if they could move any faster. I too would be old someday and placing red markers on only five of the twenty six letters in the alphabet as a sporting event seemed far from a hullabaloo. At one point, I told them it would be faster if they wait while I go on a search and recovery mission to retrieve a couple of samples. They objected. I think they thought I was trying to shake them. I marched, they shuffled. They were too slow so I pressed onward on a solo expedition of jammies. I returned empty handed with no good news to share.

“It seems Wal-Mart either doesn’t sell pajamas or somebody is planning one giant slumber party. I can’t find one pair of jammies. No flannels, nothing.” “You see Shirley, Sonny couldn’t find the pajamas either. I told you my cataracts had nothing to do with it.” “What do we do?” The ladies seemed unsure. “What do you got there, Sonny?” She pointed to the underwear I had picked out for myself. I never liked to advertise the underwear I wear in the presence of an age gap of a half century. Besides, there is just too much expectation with the pictured models flaunting the stuffed sock packaging look. “These little old things?” I answered embarrassed. “Well, this is everyday wear.” “You got one of that them there on?” “Yes, but please don’t ask me the color.” Shirley asked, “Okay…what do you wear to bed?” “Follow me.” I encouraged. If they owned x-ray glasses, they would be using them right about now. I took the women over to the silk boxer section. I held up a pair of black and fire engine red flamed boxer shorts. Maybe the devil made me do it. She reached forward to pet the supple fabric. “Ah, Shirley, come feel how nice.” Shirley rocked her cane forward and ably shuffled between the two of us. “Ah!” she moaned feeling the silky smoothness. “You wear these?” the nameless one asked. “Yes.” I admitted wihtout saying 'Bingo!' a second time. “My husband is 83 years old, Sonny. I can’t see him in theses but…I can surely see you in them. “Surely you can’t?” I asked dumbfounded. Shirley thought I said Shirley not surely. “Shirley can.” added Shirley with a shit-eating grin. The translation of her reply is Yabba Dabba Do on Centrum Gold. Her daydreaming worried my manhood. Surely by now I had wished her name wasn’t Shirley. Heck, I wished they would stop calling me Sonny. Shirley may have been recalling Honeymoon 1926 in Niagara Falls a little too fondly. If you have never seen two 90 year old women’s eyes simultaneously glaze over, it’s an awkward moment especially for a man cornered in the underwear section of a department store. The moral of the story is never let old women stop you briefly.