"Story of my life"

Friday night I went to the liquor store over by my house to buy a six pack of Angry Orchard. It was my first time there even though I’ve been 21 for almost 5 months now. I don’t drink at home because I still feel a lot of guilt and shame when I do anything that my parents might look down on, especially in my house. You see, being an alcoholic is a reoccurring trend in my family, so any time I 

Anyway, I walked in and said, “How are you doing tonight, sir?”

“I’m fine, man.”

The formidable man was hunched over the counter in a stance much like a buldog’s. His slightly open green plaid shirt made his chest seem bigger than it probably was. A tarnished gold cross dangled from his neck. The chain had probably been with him since before his head had greyed, a time when his face was less touched by time.

Doubt set in my mind, as it always does when I purchase alcohol. Where’s the Angry Orchard? Wait, do I want wine? Pinot Grigio, Riesling, Chardonnay… I should just stick with Mike’s Hard. I love lemonade, after all. Then again, I haven’t had one in eons and I must have stopped for a reason. Heartburn or something. Maybe I should try something new. Variety is the spice of life, after all. Oh God, so many choices. I just want something to drink that doesn’t taste like it’s going to kill me.

Grabbing the Angry Orchard and walking to the front of the store felt like stepping on top of the podium to receive a medal. Instead of celebrating any sort of academic or athletic achievement, I was celebrating having made a choice of what I wanted to drink that would make academic and athletic achievement more difficult.

I handed the man my ID.

“Sorry, I didn’t recognize you.”

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it.”

I had never seen the man before, I didn’t expect him to recognize me. Did he recognize my name? Does he know my Dad? Or my mom? Does he realize that I live two streets away from here and he’s a neighbor that I’ve never paid attention to? Is he a distant relative that I had never met before? That’s it, he’s an uncle that disappeared when my Dad was young and they never talked about it because it was too painful and he’s here now and he’s been preparing for this situation his whole life. Don’t cry Luis, don’t cry. Wait, he looks Irish, not Dominican.

“You know, if you’re an asshole, I can be an asshole back. If you’re nice and polite, I’m a nice guy.”

Uncle I-Don’t-Know-Your-Name, why? I’m not an asshole! It’s the Yankees hat. He’s going to beat your ass because you’re a fan. I knew getting the Yankees logo on my debit card was a bad idea. How am I going to pay for this? I don’t have cash! Say something, say anything Luis!

“I know what you mean, man.”

He smiled. It worked! Or he’s disarming you. Prepare your face. They say you should play dead if you see a bear so they don’t think you’re a threat. Maybe if you play dead he’ll stop beating you. Then, when he’s distracted by the bags of food on the shelf over there, you can slither out.

“$8.78.”

If he had said $100 I would’ve paid it just to get out of this really strange transaction. I carefully slid my card, making sure to hide the Yankees logo from his field of view.

Approved. I let loose a sigh of relief.

“Have a god one.”

“You too sir, have a great night!”

He quickly extended his arm.

Oh God, HERE COMES HIS FIST! I almost made it out! Oh, wait a second…

We fist bumped. He smiled as I scuttled out of the store, more confused about this interaction than anything in my life. I had this feeling that I had missed something crucial.

As I got in my car and prepared to recount the whole ordeal to Laura, I found the missing puzzle piece in the form of a sign that read, “Have your ID ready upon check out.”

He was, in his own way, acknowledging that I handed over my ID without hesitation or prompting.

I’ll never doubt my new uncle again.