It was all a dream, I used to read Word Up! Magazine

It had only been a day since my whole family finally reached the new house we were moving into. Waking up to the sound of boxes being cut open to retrieve what's inside much like a surgeon cutting open a patient to work on their organs with a slight hum of oldies music in the background. “Was it The Beatles? Or Nirvana?” My half awake brain even thought it was Pink Floyd for a moment. I decided to stumble out of bed and was hit with a sudden revival. I either had a really long night or the discombobulation of my new room with boxes stacked a mile high threw my brain out of whack. As I walked downstairs I noticed how dingy and nasty the bottom of my feet felt. I raised the sole of my left foot in order to expose crumbs, dirt, dead skin and even half a candy wrapper on the sole of my foot. “ This house is going to be more of a project than my parents had intended” I told myself. The house had been on the market for 19 months until my parents made an offer of 50% asking price. They had done all of the paperwork and such in the depths of their bedroom. Many big things like this were kept away from us children until it was finalized. “We didn't want to get your hopes up” they told all 6 of us the day before we moved. 

Nirvana! It was Nirvana playing relatively low on the Amazon Alexa my Dad got for Christmas. “Start unpacking some of these boxes before we go to HomeDepot” My Dad said in a stern voice. “It's going to be one of those days” I whispered to myself followed with a very obnoxious exhale. Just as I finish unpacking a box labeled “Closet C” with various towels and blankets enclosed my Dad tells me it’s time to head to HomeDepot.

The car ride was an enjoyable 7 minutes with the A/C blasting followed by a random radio station “ WLAP 630 Lexington’s News talk radio” on volume 11. In due time we would figure out the good stations. As we pulled into the HomeDepot parking lot I rolled down my window to take in a nice big whiff of the sizzling hotdogs being grilled by an older brown man. “Hope he’s not muslim” I said as I pointed him out to my Dad. He gave me a slight smirk and asked “why is that?” “It’s Haram for Muslims to eat pork,” I explained. “ Pretty contradicting isn't it?” He said with a smirk. At this point my heart was set on a nice lukewarm hotdog with ketchup and a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos. As my dad explains the “game plan” and what we need to get inside all I can think about is that hotdog. “What if he puts onions and sauerkraut when I tell him no?” What if there is no Nacho Cheese Doritos?” All of these first world problems racing through my head as my Dad finally wraps up his “game plan”. The walk from the car to the entrance, every step closer my mouth begins salivating more and more. Trying to think what was sadder, the time my lovely Aunt committed suicide at the family reunion or the fact that I had to wait until after my Dad purchased 11 new fans, 20 gallons of chalk white paint and whatever else he deemed necessary in order to get my pudgy hands on one of those hotdogs. 

“Your total today comes out to $2,007.60” The HomeDepot cashier says with a slight attitude. As if that isn't her job she gets paid to do. Usually I dawn on negative customer service but in this case all I wanted was that hotdog 30 feet from me. As I wait in line behind a Father and Son with matching Nascar shirts I grow more impatient. In front of the Father and Son stands a grown man who seems to have his life figured out, and in front of him an older white gentleman who is clearly having difficulty placing his order. The language barrier between the gentleman ordering and the patchy bearded middle eastern man was irking me to the point where I started fidgeting with the lighter in my pocket. Once the old man finally completes his order and the broken english of “ That will be $17” is said I am overjoyed. One step closer to placing my order, I can practically taste the stale hotdog bun already. At Least the guy who looked like his life was pretty put together was able to complete an order in under 5 minutes unlike his predecessor. Now all that stands in front of me and the infamous HomeDepot hotdog is a 6 year old boy and his Father.  “ We’ll take 2 hotdogs with everything on them, 1 plain hotdog and 2 bags of Lays.” Wow what music to my ears, after he totals it up and gives them their change it will be my turn to order. Although i'm next up to order the previous 2 patrons are yet to receive their hotdog. This stand is a one man operation so he must be waiting to take everyone's order until he prepares the food. Luckily I am the last one in line. As I approach the stand I can see my reflection gleaming off of the ruby red Doritos bags, I can smell the must seeping out of the poor man's pores, My order i've been rehearsing under my breath for the past 2 hours “1 hotdog with only ketchup, Nacho Doritos and a can of Sprite please” is finally going to pay off. With a chest full of air pointed at the heavens I recite my order with so much confidence I could win the presidency. As I am waiting for the man to calculate the total in his head I reach into my pocket to grab my wallet but in the midst of everything I couldn't help but blurt out “ It’s $5! 3+1+1 is 5!” I instantly regret saying that but shove the Abraham Lincoln in his face without showing remorse. He stared at me with a blank face slowly taking the $5 bill from my hand. I take out the last two remaining dollar bills in my wallet and place them in his tip jar for good measure. The outside of the jar had a pink post-it note with the phrase “ Just put the tip in, see how it feels..” I giggled in my head and wondered if the young boy that was with his father understood the joke. I stood along with the other patrons in the shade while our food was being prepared. After what felt like an eternity the old man finally receives his $17 order along with a smug look. My impatience leads me to become a little nosey and drop in on the conversation between the Father and his son. The kid was complaining about the wait time, we were on the same page. “ Patience is a virtue Glenn”, his Father said in a dour tone. Poor kid doesn't even know what virtue is. Neither did I at his age. More time passed and the next order was ready, The man took his hotdog wrapped in aluminum foil along with his Coke can dripping with condensation. I watched the condensation drip onto the floor, envious, not only does it look like he has his life put together but he is also going to enjoy his hotdog before me. As I'm still eavesdropping on the Father and son I get a text from my Dad asking what's taking so long. “He’s making them fresh I think” I responded. “You”, startled, I look up and see the man pointing the hotdog wrapped in tinfoil at me as if it were the iron sights of a gun. The time has finally come, as I clenched the warm tinfoil a sudden euphoric rush throughout my body occurs making my legs feel limp. I picked out the bag of Doritos with the least amount of air and the can of Sprite the furthest down in the cooler. I unravel the hotdog from the tinfoil to expose only the slightest of this fine delicacy. My mouth salivating like a junkyard dog about to bite an intruder, I took only a nibble out of the Great Value hotdog bun and was instantly sent into a trance. 

That little nibble of bread made my whole body warm like never before. The feeling didn't last long, once I realized what was going on. Dad playing Nirvana? A muslim making hotdogs? This was nothing more than a dream. My Dad doesn't listen to Nirvana, Muslims don't make hotdogs. As much as I would love to be eating a hotdog I wouldn't trade that for a Dad that listens to Nirvana.

 When I finally decide to rise from my slumber I am greeted by the delightful sound of Biggie Smalls blaring downstairs. Life as I knew it was more normal than ever. Each step closer to the kitchen the Biggie Smalls lyrics get louder and louder “It was all a dream, I used to read Word Up! Magazine, Salt-n-Pepa and Heavy D up in the limousine” I smiled ear to ear like Glenn would on Christmas Day.