More than anything else, what Bakersfield most resembles is "Twin Peaks". Without the scenic beauty.
The weirdness factor of this town is off the charts. Now, I'm no stranger to weird environments. I've lived in Hollywood and Venice Beach, both no slouch in the weirdness department. But in both those instances the weirdness could be chalked up to youthful rebellion, drugs or dementia. In Bakersfield, the weirdness isn't so much a bug as it is a feature. Case in point: yesterday's trip to the market.
Yesterday I took one of my increasingly rare trips out to the real world. We were out of dog food. Not for us, for the dogs. Although, at the rate things are going, that may soon be a meal for four. At any rate, I needed to take a trip to the supermarket.
The first person you encounter at the grocery store is Cindy, manning the floral department. She's a kindly looking, grandmotherly type. She reminds me of my old first grade teacher, Mrs. Prosser.
Except Mrs. Prosser never dyed her beehive fluorescent magenta.
Which Cindy does.
Not always magenta. Sometimes it's neon green. Or orange. It seems to depend on her mood.
Occasionally I'll pick up some flowers when I'm there to dress up our otherwise dreary existence, and when I do I can't take my eyes off her hair. Yet no one else seems to even notice. Maybe everyone is just used to it. Maybe she's been such a fixture at the store that everyone is just over it. Still, I try to imagine her sitting in church with that hair.
So I made a quick trip of it and just picked up six cans of dog food. And also some rawhides, because they were on sale. As I approached the checkout lines, my stars were aligned... there was no one in line.
I chose the express line, staffed by Tammy.
She seemed a bit lost in thought and as my dog food slowly rolled up to her on the conveyor belt, she stared at it intently and said, to no one in particular...
"All my friends say I drink too much. They say I'm an alcoholic. They're probably right..."
WTF?
How did we get from dog food to AA? It's a good thing I wasn't buying any box wine.
It was then that I realized there's a good reason I never leave the house, and quickly got in my car to leave.
As I was driving home, a car pulled up next to me at the light. It was a high school kid in a Camaro.
And he was smoking a pipe.
Not your father's pipe. He was smoking a long, curving, clay elf pipe.
Like in "Lord of the Rings".
I was next to Teenage Gandalf.
All of that, in just my little 20 minute outside adventure. Imagine what I would see if I actually explored this place. I'm not sure I have the stomach for that.
