Now what? First things first, I fished my bra through the arm of my tee. I don’t need one anyway, mostly, and I do my best thinking when I can get rid of it. I tossed it over my shoulder like a wedding bouquet and spun to see where it landed, which was next to the pretty black one I was looking for last Saturday night. Hey, the day was looking up already!
We had all gotten the text this morning that the plant was shutting down for a week and all of the hourly workers were furloughed. What, they didn’t know this on Friday? And couldn’t have told us then? Ugh! I looked at myself in the mirrored closet door and ran my fingers through my freshly-cut hair. I didn’t even get the chance to show off my new ‘do. So, now what?
“Road trip!” popped into my mind. The weather was warm even for early June. I could be on the Canadian side of Niagara Falls between an hour and a half and three hours, depending on the border traffic. And since I was mostly broke and I was about to lose a week’s pay, of course hitting the casino was a perfectly logical thing to do.
I stripped off my tee and jeans and tossed them next to my bra (so I’d know where to find it). I unearthed my yellow backless maxi dress with a halter top, the new one with the marked-down price tag still on it. I pulled off the tag with my teeth, thankful that I didn’t put a hole in the dress this time.
I upgraded my makeup from ‘going out to toil’ to ‘going out.’ Then I wiped it all off except my mascara. Fuck it, I’m cute as a button, especially with the new pixie cut. I dug through my shoes and found my flat white walkin’ sandals. I vowed to put the other shoes away when I got home. I had gas in the tank, big ol’ oversized sunglasses on the top of my head, and I probably moved everything I’d need from my real purse to my tiny travel crossbody one. I set up my GPS so I didn’t end up in Erie, stuck my E-zpass to the windshield, tuned to a radio station that would fade out half-way there, and hit the road.
-==-
Twenty-six and single. The problem with driving alone is your brain goes out looking for things to think about. For instance, I would have thought more highly of my brain if it had remembered to bring my phone. No, instead it said, “Hey! Remember why Brian your boyfriend of two years dumped you?”
“Yes,” I answered. “Let’s not go there, please.”
“He said your tits were too small. Remember?”
“These are perfectly fine tits thank you very much and, and, and they deserve a LOT better than you slobbering on them!” That’s what I should have said. Instead, I said “OK” and got my hair cut. I looked at myself in the rearview mirror. I liked my new hair. And I hoped Brian’s new girlfriend’s tits hit her knees by time she’s thirty. I would accept thirty-five.
-==-
The crossing time wasn’t bad at all and I altogether enjoyed walking along the Falls. The girls poked against the damp fabric of my dress but settled back when I wandered just a few yards away into the sunshine. They got chilled again when I strayed back into the mist, and went back into hiding in the sun. I giggled to myself as I zig-zagged in and out of the sun; off, on, off, on.
On. On. On. I gave one a poke before I remembered I was in public. They were stuck on ‘on.’ Apparently we were all having too much fun, so I decided to go gamble.
The only gambling I do is play the slot machines. I’m sure there are people there that would be only too happy to show me more ways to lose my money, but I never asked. I figured out pretty quickly that all the stares I was getting was because I was the only person there under seventy. The bartender noticed the difference as well when he rejected my polite request for a rum and coke. “Nice try,” he said at first. “Is this your big sister’s ID?” My license picture of course was me with my long hair.
“Really?” I replied, “You think I look younger? I thought this cut made me look more mature. I changed the color too. See how much lighter it is in my picture?” I lifted it in front of his face, then flipped it over to look myself. “Well, you can’t tell but my hair was just, you know, blah brown. I had her give me a darker color when she cut it, but then she said do you want highlights and I said ooh, I hadn’t thought of that and so she did that too. I got it cut because my boyfriend just broke up with me. Do you think I overreacted?”
I thrust my chest forward and tipped my head to one side just a little and kittenishly smiled. Blink blink. I glanced down quickly and confirmed that there were no nips to be seen. C’mon, bitches, now’s not the time to let me down! The joke was on them because I got my fucking rum and coke anyway.
The day kept getting better because I walked out of the casino with ten whole dollars extra. I flipped my sunglasses off my head and walked up and down Clifton Hill looking for touristy ways to spend my riches. I ended up getting a t-shirt, a sweat shirt and a cork screw to replace the one I couldn’t find. I bet Brian probably stole it. I also found a pair of panties that had, “Maid of the Mist” written on the crotch. I giggled at that because, well, because, and I dug through the pile to find my size, XS, don’t judge me, it’s small but nicely rounded, thank you. I found two pairs (only a dollar, imagine that!) and that ended my shopping spree.
-==-
I carried my loot way over to the cheap parking lot and headed for home. The line at the border was about as long as I expected. I kicked off my sandals and inched steadily to the U S of A. I slid my sandals back on when it was my turn and showed them my ID.
“Anything to declare?”
“Yes,” I said, patting the bag on the passenger seat.
“How many items?”
“Four.”
“Could I see a receipt?” I handed him my receipt. “It says you bought five items.”
I counted things up in my head and I said, politely, no, one sweat shirt, one t-shirt, some panties and a cork screw.
“But you bought two pairs of panties. That makes five.”
“Yeah, but they’re the same so I counted them as one.”
“Pull over to that empty spot please.” I tried not to roll my eyes but I know I did. I chatted with the next officer or whatever and they took my bag and escorted me inside. Ugh! I said that out loud and meant every syllable.
I waited fifteen minutes or so before an officer or agent or whatever came in with my bag. She dumped everything on the table in front of us. Now, you know me, I’m not any kind of fashion expert regarding proper uniforms for crossing guards, but hers seemed a little off to me.
