Life on a Minnesota Resort: February 2015

It was the end of the day at the sportshow, Fish Fest Minnesota at Canterbury Park in Shakopee, Minnesota. I got in the car and navigated the mile or so to my hotel. It was going to be a late check-in and I'd called ahead. The woman at the counter was young, pleasant and bubbly despite it being 8:30 at night. I dropped my stuff off in my room and headed outside to find some place to eat. Conveniently, there was a strip mall across the busy street and I spied the Dragon Cafe and some pasta place. More adventure in Chinese food I figured, so Chinese it was.

I walked in to the relatively empty cafe and was greeted (if you can call it that) by a short, wide Chinese (I would guess) waiter in blue jeans and an ill-fitting yellow polo shirt. He asks me "One?" and I nod at the obvious, and he said, "Follow me!" in a thick accent. We walked about ten feet total and he pointed to a booth and queried "OK!" and I answered "Sure!" not that I really had a choice. I sat down and he abruptly slapped down the plastic coated menu and I sensed some urgency in the air. I began to speed-read through the two million choices because I just knew he was returning with a red plastic tumbler with ice water. Sure enough; he was back. He set down my tumbler and said, "You ready, orhda?" I could feel beads of sweat building up on the back of my neck as the fireplug stood at the booth table edge, his rough cheeks and fuzzy, short black hair pointing at me, demanding an answer. "Errrr - I'll take #12", I told him quickly. "Soupohsahda?", he asked very fast. I had to ask him to repeat it three times in which he never, ever altered or changed his presentation. It was "soup" or "salad" and I opted for the chicken soup. "Anyting to drink?", he added. "No, water is fine", I answered quickly. "OK!" and he disappeared in the kitchen from where tinking noises were emanating.

As I waited, I noticed a Chinese young woman eating soup or something on a round table next to the cash register. She was eating so slowly and looking down, I figured she was reading something good. Upon observation - nope, nothing in front of her but her food in some large bowl. Meanwhile, the fireplug brought out my "soupohsahda" and it was water, with snow white strips of chicken, and handful of chopped chives, white rice and salt. Didn't really put a lot of effort into it, but it tasted OK, I guess. The fireplug also gave me a plastic replica of one of the those ornate and highly-irritating-to-use, ceramic spoons. It was like a mini bowl with a handle and hard to use at best. Right behind the soup event came the #12. It was 4 big puffy balls of breading with a slightly dried-up shrimp hiding in the middle of each. They laid on top of flied lice and next to a pile of chowmein that buried yet another pile consisting of chowmein noodohs.

While digging through my no-calorie-no-salt Chinese meal, I developed a thirst and was blasting through the ice water. The fireplug was back with a pitcher of water in his meaty hands, twice. I looked over my shoulder and noticed that he was standing, arms crossed, watching over the patrons like a prison guard with an ax to grind. He was efficient, I'll give him that.

When I was done enjoying my Chinese-adventure-on-a-plate, he was right at the table with the bill and requisite fortune cookie. He asked, "Ow done?" and I affirmed. "Tank you." and he set down the cookie and bill and disappeared through the kitchen doors. He was gruff and to the point, but he did his job well. I left a tip.

I got up to pay and there was party of two before me, paying their bill to the woman who had been concentrating on her bowl of food. She stood and rang them up and thanked them pleasantly while I stood two feet behind them and was taller than both by a head. One could not miss my presence if one tried. As the couple stepped out, I stepped up and the woman looked right through me and went back to her seat to continue slowly eating her bowl of food on the round table next to the register. I had become a ghost.

I stood there in silence feeling a bit stupid wondering how fast these Chinese could run if I bolted out the door to my immediate right, but then, another Chinese woman appeared and in absolutely perfect English, said she would take care of my payment. No sooner than I gave her the cash, she started in on the woman eating at the round table. "Odoh, sukinitchy hoooooooyyyy dohwooooh!" she said while she completely ignored my departure. Sheesh. Out into the winter air I went and decided that I needed a can of pop and a candy bar for dessert.

I saw a gas station on a corner and headed towards it. There was a yellow taco truck parked outside with a bright "open" sign at the door. Steam was rising from its vents while it sat there with greased up windows closed. I wasn't sure how one ordered since it was winter and they wouldn't be sitting with the windows open. I walked past it and into the convenience store.

I took a right to see a large display of incense sticks and things that I normally have not seen in a convenience store. One was the large, very visible display of adult magazines with covered up front pages. And, right next to them, was something that I've never seen before: the equivalent to Mexican Twinkies, Ho-Ho's, Ding Dongs and other assorted artery clogging delights. There was one that was called Creme on Toast, and from the package, it appeared to be a toast sandwich with layer of creme where PB&J would normally exist. It was intriguing to say the least, but visions of ground up cockroaches in the creme left me looking but not consuming.

Well, this store piqued my interest. I began to wander around and noted both the "un" and "usual" snacks in the store. Having just left my Chinese adventure, I was now in Mexico but couldn't make up my mind as to what I wanted for dessert. I knew I wanted a pop so I found my flavor of choice and pulled it out of the fridge. Then I heard the yelling from the check out counter of the store.

I was the only customer in the place and there was a short bald guy with a mustache wearing a huge blue and white basketball (?) jersey behind the counter. He was surrounded by a sea of E-cigs, paraphernalia, and tobacco products. From the back of the store, despite the loudly whirring coolers, I heard him yelling on the phone, "Alehandro! I gonna _ _ _ _ YOU! ALEHANDRO! I GONNA _ _ _ _ YOU! WHY ALEHANDRO? WHY?!!! BECAUSE YOU'RE MEAN, ALEHANDRO - AND A LIAR!!! YOU JUST COME HERE RIGHT NOW ALEHANDRO AND I'LL TAKE CARE OF YOU!!!!"

Holy crap (!) I thought to myself! I just wanted a pop and a candy bar to conclude my earlier Chinese adventure. Now, Alehandro is most likely on his way to crash through the store windows his low-rider car with its ridiculously thin tires and over-the-top hubcaps. Then he was most likely going to shoot the place up with a stolen Tec-9. I'd be there looking for cover behind the Mexican Ho-Ho display. Screw the candy bar, I concluded. I took my Diet Coke and headed to the counter to the crazy fool who was fully planning on doing something very obscene to Alehandro. I set the can on the counter and the bald Mexican looked me in the eye and said, "Did you find every thing you needed, sir?" I nodded, "Make that just a dollar-even for the soda."

I handed him a dollar and then noticed another politely smiling mustachioed Mexican sitting on a chair in the cigarette sea behind the counter. He had hair. The bald check-out guy politely thanked me with a very professional tone and added "You have a good evening, now."

I walked out listening for the sounds of distant squealing, smoking tires of Alehandro's roaring low-rider to tear through the streets of Shakopee, Minnesota aiming at a Mexican convenience store in the dark of night. None came. Heck, had I been Alehandro, I would have skipped going there as well, at least for tonight.

Back to my room I headed and locked myself inside. Tomorrow night would be different.

The next evening, I decided to change up my dining adventures as last night was rather involved. I decided to go to Cub Foods and buy some turkey and Swiss cheese and the other components for a delightful evening in my room - alone. I just didn't feel like putting up with the trappings of dining out.

So, I proceeded into this massive store and bumbled around with everyone asking if I would like to order from every counter before I even got a chance to look at what was there. (Can I help you? Can I help you? Are you ready to order?) I decided to observe the contents of the deli counters from afar lest I be bugged by every employee in the store with a white mesh cap. I should have brought binoculars. I finally find something suitable, place my order and pick up a box of Little Debbie's Swiss Cake Rolls to complement the Swiss cheese in my sandwich-soon-to-be.

I proceeded to a check-out where there was only one guy in front of me. After numerous attempts to swipe his card, the cashier leaned over and started swiping and pushing buttons as well. This went on for about 6 minutes. I just stood there watching until the card finally went through. The cashier said, "There was $1.47 remaining on that gift card", and the guy nodded. I secretly rolled my eyes. Then, gift-card guy turned to me after he noticed my Swiss Cake Rolls. He then proceeded to tell me about how, as a child, his uncle bet him that he couldn't eat a whole box of Swiss Cake Rolls. I looked around wishing that I'd gone to a restaurant or at least back to the Mexican gas station. Thinking that I was fully engaged in his wonderful story, he laughingly concluded that as a result of the "bet" he ended up eating two (2) of the Little Debbies and promptly threw them all up. "There was barf everywhere!" It was clearly a highlight of his growing up in the big city. I was just hoping he wasn't planning to follow me to my hotel room to share more gripping tales of his childhood.

I finally made it back to the confines of my room and securely locked the door. I made it through my sandwich and two (2) Little Debbies and everything stayed down with no problems. I should have made a bet with someone. Heck, I should have bought a lottery ticket after that.

On the final part of my return home, I stopped at an Arby's in Cloquet, MN which had four total patrons sitting down. I approached the counter with an 80 pound girl who was as cute as a bug with pouty little lips and a round face that reminded of "I tat I taw a puddy tat" Tweety. She was young with dark, shorter hair and the shining example of someone who would have a vibrant personality and intelligent charm all mixed together with downright interesting good looks. And then she opened her mouth.

Instead of saying the usual "Hi, can I help you?" upon my approaching the counter, she snarled, "For here or to go?". That was it. That was the greeting from Tweety at Arby's. I ordered the fish sandwich and she snarled, "That'll be $5.37." with the personality of whale snot. Another smiling, friendly girl from the back brought out the sandwich instantly to Tweety, who snorted and dropped it on the tray along with the fries. I took it away from the counter with the angry bird behind it, found a spot in among the 75 open spots in the dining section, ate my run-of-the-mill fish sandwich with greasy curly fries and left. As I was throwing away my beverage cup, I couldn't help but notice on the side of it was a big blahbitty-blah about how Arby's wants my dining experience to be "more than awesome". I'm going with "underwhelming", actually. Tweety must have been having a bad day.

From there, I went to another gas station to top off my tank right next to Arby's and thought about getting a pop and a candy bar for dessert. There were no swearing Mexicans so I felt somewhat vacant. Plus, there was a Walgreens next door, so I went there instead. Wouldn't you know it - there were Valentines chocolates on sale for 50% off! I picked one up along with a few other items and went to the check out. When I got there, the 17 year old boy was having an issue with the scanner and the register so an older lady came out and was pushing buttons. They moved me to a different till and I set down my stuff. He scanned it all in and I paid the $9.57. I left with my sweet deal in hand and about 9 miles down the road, I'd realized that I never got the 50% discount on the candy. SONUVA!!!!

The cities (everything south of Duluth in my book) are an odd place. It was nice to come home to the woods. Everybody was happy to see me & nobody was shooting up any convenience stores with angry Mexicans inside.

As of this writing, we are now out of Little Debbies, too.

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