At the Supermarket

I have just popped in to the supermarket to stock up on a few things that I have run out of - you know, the sort of things where you know exactly where they are and I can quickly go directly to them, then quickly to the check-out, then away. No fuss, no problem, the least time spent at the supermarket as possible. The music that was playing was "Day By Day", you know, that song from "Godspell". I have never heard that in the supermarket before: Billy Joel yes, Phil Collins yes, but not this song from "Godspell" that I haven't heard since the seventies.

Had to get a mouse trap. I picked one up and was pondering if I should actually get two. Then the people that were passing by seemed to look at me strange, like I should not have been buying a mouse trap at all, like I shouldn't need a mouse trap. Well, I wasn't going to let their awkward looks influence my purchasing - so I got two.

I walked passed Jennifer Aniston. She was pushing her trolley full of frozen dinners for one, looking sad and lonely. Why was she all alone? I think we all know why she is all alone. I say "Hi Jen", as I pass by and quickly look away so there is no chance to stop and talk. Got to get my stuff and then get out of here. Jen just attempts a half smile then goes back to looking grumpy.

I head towards the fruit and vegetable section - I need a lettuce. I pass more shoppers and I get more strange looks. Why? I find a good looking lettuce and then can't decide if I should put it in a plastic bag or keep it out. They never fit properly into the plastic bags and I always spend too long trying to get it in. Standing there in the middle of the fruit and veggie section fumbling with a plastic bag and a lettuce, and then, when I get to the check out, whether I have gone with the bag or not always seems to be the wrong decision. Anyway, I am standing there, lettuce in hand, pondering this eternal question when a rather old supermarket employee comes up to me to ask if I needed any help. The guy would have been at least seventy and asked me if I had weighed it.
"Why do I need to weigh a lettuce?"
He takes it from me and goes off to find a scale to weigh it on, but there is none in the fruit and veggie section. So, off he walks with my lettuce in hand, towards the front of the supermarket. It was then that I noticed the huge number of people that were lined up for the check outs.

Everyone was standing, waiting in a line that stretched from the check outs across the front of the supermarket, down the side to the very back. This is going to take forever, and I only have a few things - including my lettuce that I have now lost sight of. Why does everyone always panic the day before a public holiday like they won't be able to shop again for six months. I should just dump my stuff and leave, but I am having some friends come to visit tomorrow and I really need these few things - including the lettuce. I count my items, maybe I can go through the twelve items or less check out and get around this long queue. 5, 8, 10, oh I have 15 items would anyone notice?

It was just then, as I was looking down at the carry basket with fifteen items that I noticed I was dressed as Superman. Everyone else was noticing as well. I normally do my grocery shopping dressed as Clark so as not to draw attention. Well, that explains the strange looks in the previous aisles. Question is now, do I use my reputation and good standing among the citizens of this city to jump to the front of the queue. No, I can't do that, I will just have to stay standing in this unusually long queue like the rest of the ordinary everyday shoppers.

Villeneuve

May 8 this year is the 30th anniversary of the death of Gilles Villeneuve.

A true naturally talented racer who showed he was one of the greats of Formula 1 in a very short space of time. His exploits on the track are well documented and he never failed to excite anyone who saw him race.
I have always been a bit torn on Villeneuve. I admired his talent, his prowess and the way he went about his racing. But, particularly in 1979, he seemed to be the one who stood in the way of Alan Jones winning - and I always wanted the Australian to win. Jones' grit seemed to match Villeneuve's unstoppable determination.

I remember the start of one race and there was a first corner altercation that took Jones out of the race. I said to myself, "I bet it was Villeneuve", and when the dust had settled it was in fact the Canadian sitting with the Australian amongst the debris. I was frustrated that Villeneuve's "do or die" nature had caused Jones to miss out on another victory. But it was that same "do or die" nature that grew the legend of  Gilles Villeneuve, what endeared him to us racing fans and why we have missed him these past 30 years.

As well - he drove one of the prettiest F1 cars ever - the Ferrari 312 T4.

Playing Pool

I came to a bar to meet a group of friends.
Actually, I ran to the bar. It was pouring rain outside - torrential rain. So everyone in the bar had damp clothes and was sporting wet-look hair styles. The light was dull but brightened by the beer signs above the bar and the TV screens playing sports and horse races. My friends had started playing pool on the large table at one end of the small bar. There was some Creedence playing on the jukebox with laughter and lighthearted banter hanging in the air along with the cigarette smoke. So, not a bad place to spend some time with friends.

Joey handed me a cue and urged me to join in the next game. I noticed that the balls on the table were for playing Snooker - not Pool. So he made up a triangle of red balls and colored balls, and that is how we played.
After Joey broke I had my turn and was doing quite well. That is until Sofia started her distraction tactics. How is a man supposed to play pool shots with any degree of accuracy with Sofia Vergara sitting opposite the pool table perched on a bar stool with wet hair from the rain and wearing a tight blue dress the way only Sofia Vergara can and moving in such a suggestive way to render accurate pool shots impossible. She always distracts me this way whenever I play Joey. You would think I would be used to it by now - but I'm only human. And by the smile on her face she was completely enjoying causing me to lose. It's not that she prefers Joey to win, she just knows that I am the easiest target. To be honest, it's not a bad way to lose.

So Joey takes the game and while he sets up for another I stroll over to Sofia to give her a piece of my mind on her, clearly one sided, support. "Have you seen Danny?" she asks. "He has just finalized his divorce and he got his wife's body".
"He what?"
"He divorced his wife," she explains slowly so I will comprehend, "she got the house and he got her body".
"I don't under..." I begin to say just as Danny walks into the bar. He walks over to greet us and I am confronted by this middle-aged man's face on a hot female body in a sexy black dress. A body to rival Sofia's and a face to rival the old guy planted at the end of the bar.

The Senna Anniversary

Today is the day that Ayrton Senna died back in 1994.

I remember it well. I had been out the night before getting dumped by an old girlfriend. So I wasn't happy to start with. Because I was out I recorded the Grand Prix at Imola and did not watch it live - probably a good thing.

I woke up to the radio news - and it was bad. I rushed to the living room to hurriedly watch my recording of the event. I fast forwarded past the initial start and stoppage - there was a start line accident (not the fateful one) and then a wait then a restart.
More fast forwarding and then I see it happen - rewind so I can see it at normal speed.

I see the sparks of his car bottoming on the bump in the middle of the Tamburello curve. Then the car heads straight off the road without turning and hits the wall and the car, with accompanying wreckage, careers back towards the track. I can see him slumped in the car and I already know the result, but that doesn't stop me yelling at the TV screen at the marshal to "DO SOMETHING".
He knew what the situation was - he could see it. I knew, as I had heard the radio news only minutes before.

I felt sick in my stomach, I felt tears in my eyes - I couldn't change anything, it was done. I tried re-watching the accident on the video, hoping for a different outcome, but it didn't work. The same result each time.

A hero gone, full stop, no more.

1957 at a Drive-In

So it's 1957, it's in black and white, I'm at a drive-in but it's day time. The sun is setting so I guess we are all waiting for darkness to fall. Since it is going to be a while before the movie starts I roll my window down and sit on the door of my car with my feet on the front seat while I lean against the side and my arms stretch forward across the roof.
It's my brand new car, a Chevy. Even though everything is in black and white I can see it's brand new, 'cause the chrome shines so brightly in the setting sun. Not a scratch or a smear to spoil the unblemished newness of this wonderful hunk of metal.

As I sit there another car swings into the space two spots down from mine. It's a Caddy, white, not so new. The guy driving it  is dressed in a white t-shirt and a white stetson as dirty and well traveled as the car. He looks like Hank Williams - on a bad day, he looks angry. His passenger is dressed all in white as well. It's Marilyn Monroe, she looks sad. Hank gets out, grunts, slams the door and saunters off like some drunk cowboy looking for a fight and heads towards the kiosk to buy some cigs.

I wave and say "Hi" to Marilyn, she flashes the briefest smile. "You OK?", I ask.
"Just been one of the days", she says back.
"A drive-in movie will cheer you up", I say trying to brighten her mood.
"That's what I was hoping, but old grumpy britches doesn't agree."
"Well I'm on top of the world today", I tell her, "got my brand new Chevy and I thought I would bring her to the drive-in to show her off".
"It's one good looking automobile" she tells me.
"Yes it is. I just need a good lookin' gal to ride along with me." I say hoping she will jump out of Hank's car and into mine.

She doesn't, but she does slide over to her driver's seat so she can lean out the window to continue our conversation. I tell her about my beautiful new car, she tells me about Hollywood and how she sometimes feels like running away from it all. We share some jokes and she begins to smile more and more. I tell her that if she wants to run away she can run away with me and she flashes the biggest smile I've ever seen - bigger than when I've seen her on the movie screen. That's when Hank comes back, they didn't have any cigs. He looks at Marilyn's smile, he looks at me and I wave and say "Hi". He gruffly gets in the Caddy, roughly pushes Marilyn over to the passenger seat, starts the car and drives off in an angry cloud of dust.

Then as the Caddy drives off into the setting sun I see Marilyn look back to me and raise a timid hand to wave "Good-buy", through the dust.

In Dave's Head

Here's a thought.
There's a thought.
Catch it before it blows away - floats off into space as the end credits roll.