Ohio was the longest weekend ever. Friday night was spent in a desolate cabin with no heat. And of course I forgot to bring even a sweatshirt, so I slept with one blanket, yoga pants, a tee shirt and my jacket in 37 degrees. Wonderful. Then Saturday was the bridal shower. Enough said.
This morning I woke up early and decided to run errands. So I called a friend and made him tag along.
We were driving on 394 from Costco and I had this epiphany. Every time I am in a remote location, I find myself at fucking Walmart. Literally, every random trip I have taken in po-dunk America, I have ended up at a Walmart in the middle of God's territory, usually in the wee hours of the morning.
It should be noted that I never stepped foot in a Walmart in Minnesota while growing up.
So what is it about this empire we so lovingly call Walmart that lures me in when I am trapped or perhaps traveling through America's heartland?
Maybe it is that they have low, low prices. Or maybe the fact that it is the staple place found in every city that you know is open 24-7. It should also be noted that nine times out of ten I am heavily intoxicated when at Walmart. This brings up yet another question. What is the allure of Walmart, in the middle of nowhere, when intoxicated?
Really, I have no answers. All I have is photographs from excursions to various Walmarts throughout the years to prove I was there.
7 years ago