The world is divided. Some people carry their own groceries out to their pickups, some people ask for help. Some grocery clerks stop by the Chrome Bar kitty corner from Mulligan’s grocery store to check on the football scores before returning to bag groceries . Hi, My name is DOUG, says his name tag dangling from the green apron hanging from his neck, tied haphazardly around his waist. Some grocery clerks stay in the store, wondering where Doug is, and offer recipes for how to make Red Bull (because the town is only two blocks long and there’s no room on the shelves for more than pop and beer) : Take five times too much cocoa and a week’s worth of coffee grounds, heat to almost too hot to drink and then add baking soda. Knock it back real quick. Bam! You are good and fixed.
And some people, hot and thirsty, from two days camping and fishing hours from civilization, would find and some would not find the humor when the barmaid delivers the menu after being asked if there was anything to eat: The menu has four items, two of which are out of stock. So what would it be? Red Baron’s Pepperoni or Tombstone’s Plain Cheese?
The world of camping can be divided, also. There are the campers who remember everything and run generators while camping next to the creek that has just fallen 1000 feet from the mountain top in order to roar past your camping spot. And then there are the other campers who discover too late they’ve only 5 matches left in their grub box. And discover they didn’t pack enough food for dinner. And realize they must make sure to catch some fish.
And so, yes. These are the sorts who stop in the first little mountain town driving back home with an edge of hunger, willing to eat cardboard pizza.
And when the world divides into two regarding that one farmer’s apple tree, thirty miles from any pizza, these are the sorts who can be found on the fence line that says yes, pick the last four apples hanging from the tree.