A "Farmer"

You can't go to the liquor store in Utah without running into someone you know. It's a proven fact. If you have lived in the state for longer than six months, and been somewhat sociable, and enjoy drinking, you will see someone you know when you buy alcohol. The reason is simple: there aren't that many liquor stores, and there aren't that many drinkers. Oh, and the people who drink usually run in the same circles. That makes it an almost mathematical certainty. I'm not saying that you will always run into your best friend (although that did happen to Tara and myself a surprising number of times before she left the state), I am just saying that it will be SOMEONE you know. And in that meeting, you never know what you are going to learn.

On Friday I was at the liquor store when I ran into a boy (now man) who I went to elementary school with. We both did that side eye "I think I know you thing" until it dawned on us how we were acquainted and we decided to say "hello." He looks almost exactly the same as he did in elementary school, except that he is taller, has a scraggly goatee and decided the "aging hippie" look is for him. We did the basic family catch up, and then I asked what he had been up to.

"Oh, well, I'm a farmer," he said.
"A farmer? Here?"
"No, actually, my farm is in Hawaii."
"Oh, that must be nice," I was starting get suspicious. "What do you farm?"
His answer was excellent: "Oh, you know, whatever I can."

I'm guessing that his crop is best enjoyed with a large bag of Doritos, and is beloved by people in California suffering from "back pain."

God bless the liquor store. Not only does it provide alcohol, but blog fodder as well. It almost makes me want to drink my wine faster just to see who I'll run into next time...