Finding Fabio

I figure Miss Janis will appreciate this one.

Got up and out of the house this morning without any breakfast, so I figured I would stop at the BP station to stock up on salted, dried meat snacks and a refreshing Diet Coke before getting on the interstate.

I have a passing familiarity with most of the folks who work at the BP, as well as the owned-by-the-same-folks Amoco next door—the Swarthy Swingin’ Guy of Indeterminate Near Eastern Extraction, The Big Girl, The Smoker, The Lifer—but today there was someone new.

Someone…exotic.

Tall, gangly, hard into his late-40s, variety of head shop jewelry on his arms (not to mention the nice ring-like bauble hanging from his upper ear), and to top the whole ensemble off, a long, tumbling mane of bleach-blond hair lightly pulled into a pony tail.

He was someone who looked almost like he had stepped right off of a Harlequin Romance cover, to a cramped spot on a big squishy mat behind a cash register.

He probably hears from a lot of people that he looks like Fabio (even though he’s more The Fabio Experience than the actual article), so I didn’t mention it. And he was nice enough to give me back two dollar bills that had stuck to one of the other bills, which I really don’t think Fabio would have done.

Anyway, it was just sort of jolting to see him there among the Slim Jims and 64 ounce coffee jugs.
posted by Terry at 11:13:00 AM