October 21st, 2008
At 14 and a half, my best friend was boy 3 years older than myself named Max. Combine Max's ADHD with the fact boys mature slower than girls, and our friendship wasn't too hard to imagine. Perhaps it was in our genetics, given our fathers were close friends long before we were ever born.
One late October afternoon, Max asked me to come with him on a particularly large Walmart shopping trip his mother needed help with. He didn't want to be bored in the store for so many hours. Today, his mother was setting out to begin stocking up on all of the shelf-stable items she would need for the Thanksgiving holiday (Max was the youngest of 14 children).
Our silliness and mischief would be the perfect cure for a day trapped in the Page, Arizona Supercenter while she shopped.
The Seasonal Halloween aisles were in full force. To our delight, a 1/2lb bag of Reese's Minicups was only $2. We left trails of them around the store for children to follow and stashed them in stranger's purses while they weren't looking. The only hint of the coming Christmas Season was a single box with premium wrapping papers. The silver, glimmering paper invited a sword battle. We took jabs at one another with the rolls, stopping quickly and acting innocent each time an employee neared. Eventually we grew bored of that, and continued on wandering the store. We briefly considered stashing boxes of condoms in unsuspecting strangers carts.
We walked past the Halloween aisles once more, and then hung a left to go gaze at the fish tanks awhile. Then I noticed something peculiar. Roughly 15 feet above us, on the right side, sitting on a large shelf protruding from the wall, there was a man. He appeared to be working on something on the wall up there. Max looked at me and I nodded. I handed him a Reese's Minicup, which he promptly threw at the back of the man's head. And to our surprise, he flicked his hand behind his head and caught it just before it made impact. Without turning to face us, he began
"Saw a pretty epic Christmas sword battle over there earlier. Who won?" He was unwrapping the minicup now.
"We called it a draw." Max answered.
"Max lost, and he's butthurt." I giggled.
"Thanks for the minicup, they're my favorite." He turned around to face us now. He wore a dark blue bandana, and had long hair pulled back into a pony tail. I thought he looked to be about 19 years old. He was handsome, certainly.
"What are you doing up there??" Oh, inquisitive Max.
"Running some outlets. They're going to display the inflatable Santa Clauses up here, need to be able to plug them in somewhere. I'm an electrician." He explained.
"Well, adios dude!" I handed Max another minicup, and he tossed it up to the electrician. We waved as we left to go find Max's mother. Twenty minutes later, we stood in a Walmart checkout stand helping her load two carts worth of canned beans and Kraft Stovetop Stuffing onto the belt. Straight ahead, I noticed a Native American man walking quickly back and forth across the front of the store, looking down each of the checkout stands and talking quickly on a phone. When he saw me, his eyes widened. He spoke more into the phone, looking over his shoulder at the checkout stand number as he walked away. That was odd, I thought.
I turned around and walked back toward the entrance of the checkout stand to retrieve a coffee from the fridge on the endcap, when a voice came from behind me.
"Hey, thanks for the minicups you guys. Really made my day." It was the electrician.
"Awesome. Happy to help." I smiled, extending a hand forward. I told him my name, and he told me his. We wished each other a good day, and went on our ways.