Shopping with the boss

I've recently found employment. That's right. I GOT A JOB! It's at a bookstore, aptly named Dyslexia and it's owned by an ex-pat named John, originally from New York.

So I'm walking down the street, soaking up the cool sunshine and listening to Modest Mouse when I see John walking towards me.
We meet and give hugs. "Well hi ya, boss!"
"Hello there!" He's wearing ripped blue jeans and a very dirty white shirt--small business owning down here is just a different thing. He puts his arm around me and we walk. "What are you up, today?"
"Not sure...just out walkin' on a beautiful day. You?"
"Errands. I got a list. Garbage pails, yeast, herbs."
"Sounds grand. You want a shopping buddy?"
"That'd be great, let's go shopping."
He entrusts his tape measurer to my bag and some important photos to my arms. He takes out his list and begins, "Chaulk. Paint. Glass. Tape. Dill. Rosemary. Yeast. A couple other things we can worry about later." We´re off. First stop is art store where we buy chalk..then to the pharmacy which has no surgical tape--strike one.
"What are the pictures of," I ask. "Take a look. My friend was in Ethiopia."
A man covered in methodical scars. "Each mark is for a man he killed. A war lord. That guy is a bad ass." "Wow." Sooo many people in the world doing so many interesting things!

I´m not really sure what you would call the third stop...it´s kind of like a hardware store. But no keys. Strike two. PVC pipe? We´re in luck...but you have to go back into stop number 3, order from one desk, get the receipt. Pay at another desk, get another receipt, until finally returning to where they will actually cut the pipe. Do not ask why or how this process ever came about. "This country is fucking insane. I mean I love it. But it´s insane!" John says.
So we´re back in store number three, which is quickly turning from strike two into a huge home run. John´s checking his list off like Santa.
"What are you reading these days, Jonathon?" "I am reading...slower than anyone in the history of the world...The Corrections." "And?" "And. It is the most scathing critique of the American way of life...he has absolutely NO compassion for his characters...it´s very well-written. But!" He puts his hand in the air and spins around on his heel. "It´s hard to spend time with characters the author hates!" I exclaim. "Exactly! I find myself completely underwhelmed by all these hot new American authors." "Hmm...I am going to think about that while I look around."
My flip flops work like skates around the tile floor and I start scooting around. Shower heads. Colored glass squares (for decoration?) A tile rendition of Virgin and Child. Light Fixtures. Old School Lawn Mower--you know the red ones you push that don´t even have a motor??!! Sooo cool. Toilet seats on the opposite side of the room as the toilet bowls. I am really enjoying this place. But, alas, eventually it´s time to pick up our PVC pipe and we head to the market.
"You know what John?" "Tell me." "I went to this amazing shoe store in New York City where they played this awesome music that made me want to dance. Wouldn´t that be great if they had a party where everyone could try on their favorite shoes and have a dance party?"
"That is a great idea. Who needs to walk in front of dinky mirror when trying to decide on shoes??" "That´s what I´m saying! You have to try dancing." "Or kicking." "Or kicking."
The market is the great maze of shopping experiences. No Mall Directory. No Store Signs, not even store names. It is delightful and absolute chaos. You find Hello Kitty kitch next to hanging meat. I don´t get it. I don´t want to. I freaking love it. While John is looking at neon pink pitchers for his juice bars, I find a real live authentic Cheer Bear, just like the one I had when I was five. While John is looking for Dill, I find a woman who hand makes the coolest aprons I´ve ever seen (and for those of you who don´t know about my love affair with aprons...well...it´s a long story). They sell colored powders that allow you to grow rainbow gardens! It smells like rotting shrimp on my left and fresh flowers on my right.
"I´m trying to decide whether I should get kitchy crap or Mayan crafts for Christmas presents...what do you think?" I ask. "You should find one great thing and get it for everyone," John suggests, leaning over a table of machetes. He picks one out--perfect for juicer-bound coconuts. "Are you getting a shealth for that?" "Nope," he says, as the vendor wraps it in newspaper. "We´re going to have to go sheath-less." "I just don´t know John. How can the same gift be right for everyone?" "Like, look. Here at these cheap Puma shoes. If you bought these for everyone you know, that would be the right gift for everyone." "Ok. Right. Then I could have them all save them and wear them to my wedding! That is a good idea. Which reminds me that I think I´m going to ask all of my friends for ideas for my birthday...because I think my friends have great ideas." "Now that is a great idea. Are you getting married?" "Not today." "Me neither. I´ve been thinking I should have a non-wedding wedding."
"I think I have had that idea too."
"I think everyone has had that idea. But no one actually does it."
"We should."
"We should.
"But we´ll have to think of a better name than ´non-wedding´. It´s a different thing."
"But maybe that´s just what it is. Like some things are just "non"--like non-fat."
"I don´t know. Non-fat includes the word "fat" because it´s worse than something fatty. You must remind one of what they are missing. Whereas a non-wedding isn´t actually missing the wedding. I think it´s different."
"More interesting. Yes."
The wheels are turning.
My bag is full. John´s arms are full. It´s time to leave. Good luck finding you´re way out of the place when you need to. We´re trying so hard, but laughing harder; getting coaxed loudly by various vendors in Spanish and distracted by all the awesome fake Puma gear...a myriad of chilies...neon plastic baskets...used clothing by the gallon...pinatas...flashing, singing Christmas lights.
Finally we reach sunlight and walk directly back to the place we started. John: "Well, we followed our elbow to get to our ass."
John runs to get keys and leaves me with the stuff next to a woman selling bubbles, which I of course buy. He runs back, exclaiming, "I´ve found the perfect orphan table for the juice bar!" We haul all the stuff across the street and there it is....raw and simple and spectacular. The perfect orphan table. "If no one´s claimed it by the time I get back from the grocery store it´s ours!"
So I plop down with our stuff, on the side of the road with my music and my bubbles to guard the table. I´m hard at work on my non-wedding wedding plans when I notice a kid looking longingly at my bubbles. John comes bouncing back up the street, arms full of veggies. I hand the kid the bubbles. No one´s claimed the table. As far as the list goes, we´re successful, minus the garbage pails. And lists are great...but a three year old has bubbles, a child of the 80s has a Care Bear, and a new Juice Shop owner has an orphan table...what if we had forgotten to look off the list? It´s the great thing about running errands. We head in with one idea. And head out with a million more.