Once again I am at Pathmark, where the wait and the lines often seem endless.
I decided to wait on the last "bag your own" line in the back cause it was most out of the way.
Everyone has that look of drudgery on their face, the odd kid or two is whining.
The pony tailed kid behind the register looks very somber but is efficient with his task.
Finally my things are being rung up and I absentedmindedly shift them down the belt, setting them up for packing.
Actually I am preoccuppied, pensive even, hoping the damned bank card works (last time it didn't) so mentally I have my fingers crossed.
Then I noticed his tattoos. The cashier has the most interesting arrangement of musical notation circling his wrist. Different kind of Eighth notes, Quarter notes. G clef, etc. I really dug it....and got lost in thoughts about loving the beauty of music.
Just as I am noticing this "Eureka!" the card is accepted. He hands me the slip to sign and as I hand it back I point to his wrist nodding and say "Hey I really like your tattoos"
His face softened into a huge grin "oh, THANK you!"
And I gave him a big smile back, and was on my way.
What's the matter, why can't I have a tattoo like that?