So I really should be asleep, but I wanted to write this before I forgot any of it. Today I finished my trip to Omaha. It was a really long drive. I completed 1000 miles in what feels like as many hours. Lets start with the morning first though, should we? I went to go and talk to the lady in charge of Graduate studies. After our really short appointment I started walking towards my car. Mass was just getting out (oh btw I’m going to a catholic school! How freakin, sweet is that?). A preacher was walking out of the chapel. For whatever reason I suddenly became super nervous. I tried avoiding eye contact by looking all over the place for something that could suitable divert my attention and be believable. Heaven knows if I walked past him with my eyes fixed on a rock he would try and have my acceptance revoked because he questioned my competency. I realized that I wasn’t finding anything so I looked right at him. To my shock he was looking right at me. If I thought I was nervous before, I clearly didn’t understand how bad it could get. I’m sure all the color drained from my face as the blood sank into my feet. I decided to try and continue my search for the item to divert my attention. All of this was simply because I didn’t know how to address him. I’m not Catholic, and so I don’t know if there are formalities that need to be followed. Do I call him Father? Preacher? Your Eminence? I just didn’t know. What if he asked me if I enjoyed his sermon? What if it was obvious that I had never been to mass? My nerves kept growing as I walked closer and closer to him.
Now Imagine you are a priest walking out of your Cathedral and suddenly there is a person walking towards you who looks like a 5 year old that just got caught stealing from a store, but is trying fervently to conceal the fact. This, I believe would raise a fair amount of suspicion, and it most certainly did for this priest.
As we walked past each other I looked him in the eyes, smiled and said good afternoon Father. Stupid, why did I say afternoon, it is still morning! He responded with “good morning” and a look that told me he knew I was up to something.
I don’t know exactly when I knew I was at home in Omaha, but I’m pretty sure it happened within about 30 seconds of this interaction.
As I got back in my car to leave Omaha I decided I needed something to eat. I pulled in to one of those little shopping areas that has the gas stations and fast food joints. I remembered that I had received a coupon from granting me one regular McFlurry at any location in Nebraska. I was only slightly confused because on the back of the card it had another note stating that it was valid at these locations, and it then listed about ten or twelve McDonalds. I, having no idea where I was, was unsure if this establishment would participate in my free dessert (remember it is still morning, but when you need ice cream, you NEED it). I showed it to the young man at the window and explained my confusion. He crumpled it up and said, “Who knows if this is works here but I’ll give you the free McFlurry anyway.” “Thank you” I said, “I don’t want you to get in trouble, can I just give you the $1.50 for the ice cream anyway?” as I reached into my wallet and the change drawer to grab the necessary amount. “No” he answered, as he gave me back my card and the receipt. “Don’t worry about it, my till is always off.” I chuckled, and thanked him for being so kind, to which he replied, “NO, you don’t understand. My till is always off.” This last part was given that slow overdrawn pronunciation that I believe snitches and undercover cops use with investigators as a way for them to confess without really confessing.
To this day, I don’t know if I should have told the manager at the next window that his employee taking the money was skimming, what I could only assume was a fair amount off of the company’s revenues. I didn’t tell. I maybe should have, but I figured I had no proof. Or did I? (That should be given the same slow pronunciation I was just talking about). Anyway, it was a good McFlurry.
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