Ft Wayne, Ind. — After road soccer games my daughter Celine likes to drink a small bottle of chocolate milk before settling down for lunch or another game later in the day.
We stopped by a gas station near the team hotel and walked to the coolers where we heard a woman crying uncontrollably. We both looked at each other as we walked by her.
“Should you say something,” she whispered.
No. The woman spoke loudly on a cell phone after breaking up with her boyfriend — at the gas station — and was talking to a friend. When I say she was crying loudly imagine a dog barking. That is how loud she was although she sounded more like an old car back firing.
“I don’t feel comfortable now,” I told Celine. “Get your chocolate milk and let’s get the heck out of here.”
The woman deserve her privacy although she was hooping and hollering in public.
Of course we could not find the chocolate milk and were standing there like a pair of stumps.
“Will you find the stuff,” I said.
“Booo hooo hooo. I don’t know what I am going to do,” the woman said. “What am I to do? This is not fun.”
How do you dump a woman in a gas station? I wondered if he gave her the old ziggy and just drove off. That is not cool. Did she have transportation? I was not going to give her a lift.
But I think things were looking up a bit.
“What are you doing tonight,” the woman said. “I obviously have nothing to do now.”