"I got all kinds of crazy crap!"
Denied By the Men's Room Vending Machine
I recently paid a visit to the KFC/Taco Bell in Gardner for lunch. I've been here a couple of times before and I try not to make a habit of it. Not that the place makes bad food. It's just that the food is bad for you. I may be known as the George Costanza of my circle of friends, but just because Jason Alexander tells me to eat at these places a lot is no reason to do so. Ah, well. Anyway, on this particular day I didn't have much to do. I was killing time in the worst way. I had studied quite enough and had to stay in town to see a play for my music class. So when lunchtime rolled around, I decided to take my time with some tacos and chicken strips. The meal was a satisfactory journey, although these guys should add a Super Size option to their soda. However, my hands were, well, greasy. This lead me to the bathroom to wash my hands, where I notice this...
"I got all kinds of crazy crap!"
It's one of those men's room vending machines. You usually expect to see these at night clubs, hotels, interstate rest stops, bars, and the like. They typically carry stuff like condoms and aspirin, sometimes band-aids, all sorts of stuff you'd expect a guy could get at CVS but doesn't care to actually purchase in quantities that would leave them thinking that they now have to use the WHOLE thing. These dispensers are the perfect solution. However, today I stumble across one at a KFC/Taco Bell in GARDNER. If you've never been to Gardner or the ensuing Route 2 region, this might strike you as funny, but after I thought about it, I realize that people in this area are far away from anything interesting to do and they probably lead a boring lifestyle that leads to the use of the type of stuff these things give out.
But I could tell that today I had come upon a vending machine that is much different from any other I've seen. First of all, this one says MEN'S SHOP on it, but it seems to feature a picture of what looks like a woman trying to pass as a guy. Look at the lips, people. Tell me that's not effeminate. But there was another thing I couldn't help but notice sticking out at me. Perhaps you noticed as well.
What a find!
That's right, this one sells GLOW STICKS!! How cool is that? Now, I'm not into the whole "raver" culture or anything, but I love glow sticks. You never know when one is going to come in handy, but I can't help but think of how ravers have sort of tarnished one of my favorite trinkets. Still, I can't help but want one, and if it's only gonna set me back one dollar, I'll give it a shot. Maybe I could use it at the play later that night to dazzle my classmates. I mean, we were seeing Funny Girl, this would have been almost as much fun as getting a laser pointer and shooting it at the stage for a while. Or I could have used it to read something more interesting while the houselights were down. The possibilities were endless, and it all began here with this machine. I had found the evening's salvation in a fast food restroom.
Ka-Ching...
I had $1.63 of change in my pocket, which not only was a lot for my normal day, but I could also purchase a whole glow stick and 2/3 of another, or perhaps the glow stick and half a dose of Tylenol. I didn't really have a headache, though, and vending machines are hardly ever open to reason. I also figured I didn't smell bad, so I could care less about whatever types of cologne might be dispensed by this thing. So I plopped in four quarters and PUSHED the glow stick button button firmly as the sign told me to. Nothing happened. I was upset. Where was my glow stick? I checked the little window to see if there was indeed a "0" there, but there was nothing to be found. Either this thing was there to only give me false hope or to completely mislead me and steal my money. Sure, from just me it's one dollar, but if there are others, then this could be quite the scam going on here. That's when I started to panic.
Umm... this is sort of perverse, now that I think
of it.
I ended up sticking my HAND into the machine to see if I could disloge anything, but to no avail. Now I had to wash my hands again. I proceeded to smack the machine and bang away at the coin return button, and nothing worked. Damn you, Men's Shop vending machine. Damn you, Mendy's Scandinavia, Inc. You've messed with me for the last time. That's right. Just once is enough with me. When I am denied a glow stick, or anything from a vending machine, I'm one tough cookie. I mean, I let it slide the night before when I wanted a Twix and got a Hershey's out of the machine at school the night before, but that's because I was partly to blame. (Hmmm... Twix... I think that's another Costanza reference, don't you?) But this was different. I should have thrown a fit at those guys behind the counter. I should have written letters to the estate of Colonel Sanders and to the Taco Bell Chihuahua. I'm tight with him. But then I realized that all of those people/dogs have other problems that they hardly have time for, let alone my plight about a vending machine in an outpost restaurant like this.
GRRRRR
And so I just plugged on, back to school, knowing that I was one dollar short and had no glow stick. But big deal, right? This, too, shall pass. Tomorrow's another day. Maybe I'll discover a machine that gives out flavored toothpicks at a Pizza Hut.