NeNe Wreaks Havoc in the Liquor Store

Life in the Boomer Lane has just returned from a swell trip to Florida. She visited a close friend in Palmetto and stayed at a lovely Airbnb on a beautiful street in St Pete. She also narrowly escaped being incarcerated.

When she and her friends arrived at the Airbnb, they realized they needed several essentials. These included milk, wine, and popcorn. Because they weren’t familiar with the area, they drove around for a while and looked for a supermarket. They didn’t see one, but they did, however, see a sign for a liquor store. By now it was dark.  It was also raining. They pulled into the parking lot of the liquor store. As the rain was quite heavy,  LBL pulled up the hood of her very chic, purchased-in-Portland, zippered jacket. The three friends scurried into the liquor store.

With only one foot in the door, all hell broke loose. The proprietor pointed to LBL started yelling “NO hoods in the store! Get the hood off!” All other patrons joined in, appalled at LBL’s failure to observe liquor store etiquette. LBL pulled the hood off her head. She didn’t dare put her hand on her head, in order to put her hair back in place.

“There a sign on the door!” the proprietor continued, clearly not being willing to seem as though he was shirking his responsibility to keep all patrons safe. “Didn’t you read the sign?”  The other patrons shook their heads in agreement.

LBL offered the only response she could, under such circumstances, “I have a difficult time noticing things.” She was about to elaborate with stories about how she never noticed needed laptop keys or auto dashboard buttons, until Now Husband would point them out to her.  She decided not to elaborate, however, as the other patrons were clearly alarmed at her initial brazen response. They clucked, shook their heads, and moved toward the opposite wall of the store.

LBL stayed where she was, afraid of alarming anyone further.  She decided to point to the wine she wanted, but she was afraid of raising her arm and causing more alarm. Her friends chose the wine, instead. The other patrons went about their business, with only occasional  guarded looks in LBL’s direction.

Purchases made, the three left the store. LBL was relieved that she didn’t have to use her ultimate defense, in case the proprietor had called the police. “I’m short and old!  I’m a grandmother!  I have seven grandchildren! They call me NeNe! I have naturally curly hair and didn’t want it to get wet and curl up!”  Surely one of those items would have been enough to keep her from being hauled away.

The rest of the evening’s outing was relative uneventful, and, after visiting only three convenience stores, the friends secured their milk and popcorn.  The rest of the stay in St Pete was without incident, unless one would consider someone falling into a toilet to be of note. But that will be the stuff of another blog post, after LBL checks with her friend Judy to see if she wants such an event, much less her actual name, to be made public.