Coming Home

My last day in Nicaragua before getting medically evacuated was spent at Galerias (the mall in Managua).  Though I was exhausted I just knew I could not go back to the states with my hair looking the way it did and I needed to get it cut ASAP.  I went an Americanized beauty salon I had heard about and spent about 600 cordobas (crazy amount as a volunteer) to get my haricut.  It was worth it.  I was there for over 2 hours getting pampered and served coffee while the hairdresser cut off 7 inches from my hair.  Even after it was cut my hair still went beyond my shoulders.  I didn’t realize how long my hair had become as I always keep it in a bun or in a braid but apparently it had gotten crazy long.  I also swung by the office to collect my traveling documents and say some see you laters to the PC staff then went back to the hotel to make sure I had everything I needed before the flight took off the next morning. 

I woke up at 4am to make sure I didn’t miss my 8 am flight and had a peace corps taxi pick me up and take me to the airport.  As we drove through Managua on the way to the airport it didn’t seem lke I had only been in country 6 months but so much longer.  At that point in time Nicaragua felt like home.  I had become use to the transportation, food and scary creatures climbing my bedroom walls.  As I waited in line at the airport I wondered if I would even like going home.  I became really nervous and anxious all at once.  During takeoff I looked out the window and saw the lush and beautiful lands Nicaragua offers and I started to cry.  I cried because I didn’t know if I would get the chance to come back…If I would be healthy enough to get back to work. 

As soon as I smelled the barbecue in the airport I knew I was back in the states, to be more specific Texas.  As I walked by the Salt Lick a part of me just wanted to grab some food while the bigger part of me was anxious to see Aaron who was picking me up at baggage claim.  Barbecue or the boyfriend…I chose the boyfriend for the time being.  As the elevator went down I saw him standing and waiting for me.  I did everything I could not to cry as soon as I saw him and somewhat succeeded.  He hugged me so tight I thought I wasn’t going to be able to breathe and I couldn’t stop trembling.  I was nervous and excited all at the same time.  It was a very strange situation…Not seeing someone after 6 months but talking to them every day and then bam everything should just be normal again…probably not. I had forgotten what it felt like to hold his hand or have someone hug or kiss me.  I don’t know how else to describe it except for weird, but in a good way.  It was kind of like getting to meet him all over again, which I loved. 

That evening we went to the Salt Lick for dinner and I can’t even tell you how much I had missed barbecue.  It was a great night and a great couple of days followed after.  I got to visit with friends, saw my family and got to go to Target 5 times in 4 days.  I use to have dreams about Target so going there was a priority for me.  Being back in Texas I did have some reverse culture shock.

•     You can flush toilet paper in the toilet
•      You don’t have to spray a whole bottle of off on your legs to go            somewhere.
•     You don’t need to speak Spanish (even though I miss it)
•     You can eat any type of food known to man
•     AC is something that is common
•     I almost cried walking in to both Central Market and Target because they are both AMAZING

 As for getting healthy and back on track…well it’s been a challenge.  First off there are not peace corps approved doctors, so I set up all appointments on my own but before I can be seen by a doctor it has to be approved by a Peace Corps nurse.  To have any further appointments the nurse has to receive all lab work and doctors notes then she has to consult with a Peace Corps doctor to see if he can approve me having more appointments.  It has been a little over 30 days and I still have no answers as to why I’m not 100%  and why my hemoglobin levels are not back to normal…even though the last time they checked (2 weeks ago) they had climbed up to 10.  The worst part of all of this is I am being denied treatment be Peace Corps until my doctors here can tell them exactly what happened.  So far my doctor’s best guess is that I contracted some weird viral infection that has wiped out my hemoglobin levels but until he can say how I got it Peace Corps won’t allow him to prescribe anything.  So I wait.  Every day I am just waiting for either an appointment to get approved or to get an answer from my doctor.  The hardest part of all of this is not feeling normal.  I haven’t felt normal now for over 2 months.  I haven’t run now for a month and a half.  I miss it so much and never thought I would be put in this position.

I have really mixed emotions at this time.  After my time here I have become used to being back home and being with my boyfriend and friends.  Another part of me misses the other peace corps volunteers tremendously.  I also miss going to Granada and working with the NGO there and I do miss working with at least 2 of my counterparts.  But there are a lot of things I don’t miss… The thoughts of going back and not going back both frighten me and I have no control over any of it.  I am here until the medical office tells me otherwise.

Getting Sick...

It began the last weekend in July.  I woke up on Friday and notice I had a rash all over my body.  I had hives on my face, lips, stomach, arms and legs.  I called the PCMO (PC medical office) and the on duty doctor advised me to go to a pharmacy and pick up some antihistamines and also get a full lab work up to make sure I did not have dengue.  My lab work came back normal and showed no signs of dengue; it also showed that my hemoglobin levels were normal (between 12 to 16).  The antihistamines that were initially prescribed   did not work; in fact it appeared to make things worse.  The next day he prescribed a different antihistamine that my wonderful site mate, Ailish, picked up for me in Granada.  That one did the trick and by Tuesday most of the hives had disappeared. 

Through the month of August I began to feel tired all the time.  I first noticed this when I was running.  I couldn’t run up to the Laguna like I normally did and instead went on flatter trails.  I thought I was just getting lazy.  I also noticed that I began running slower than I normally do but I again thought this was do to the heat (even though I’ve run in Texas summers the past 18 years and never had issues).  As the month went on things only got worse.  I began going to sleep at 9 or 9:30 and had difficulty waking up at 8 am.  I was getting 11 hours of sleep and thought I was just oversleeping but I really couldn’t wake up.  I started doing everything slower.  Walking to class began taking forever and once I got there I was out of breath and my heart was racing.  The second to last week of August I went for a run on a Sunday and on Monday I couldn’t get out of bed.  I was exhausted, my body ached and I had fever and chills.  By Tuesday I felt somewhat normal again.  I was still tired but figured I could go for a run.  I ran for 30 minutes before giving up and knowing I couldn’t go any further.  When I got home I struggled to take a shower.  After a couple of hours I decided I would do laundry.  Not a good idea.  I felt my legs starting to shake as I stood at the pila and caught myself before fainting.  I slowly walked back to my room and lied down the rest of the day.  The rest of the week I felt the same.  By Friday I had enough energy to get on the bus and go to Managua to see the PC doctors.  The doctors sent me to get blood work that Friday and on Saturday I got a call back from them.  The doctor told me that I had a UTI, very common here, and that I was severely anemic.  Within a month my hemoglobin levels had gone from 14 to 6.8.  The doctor asked me to come in on Sunday that way she could see me first thing Monday morning. 

Sunday morning was probably one of the worst days I had ever experienced in Nicaragua.  I had absolutely no energy and the medication the PC doctor prescribed me made me completely nauseous and on top of everything I was throwing up anything I ate.  I finally got enough energy to walk to the bus.  This was probably the worst bus ride ever.  I had a plastic bag ready to go.  I was hot, crammed between two giant men on the world’s most uncomfortable bus and thought my head was going to explode.  I finally made it into Managua an hour later and got to the hostel within 30 minutes.  That night I had fever and chills and the next morning I had difficulty walking to the office which is 10 minutes away.  Monday was a blur filled with more lab work.  By Tuesday they sent me to a doctor at the hospital who wanted to admit me on the spot.  I told him I would prefer not to be admitted but he insisted that if nothing changed I would be admitted on Wednesday.  Well nothing changed, in fact it got worse and I was admitted to Vivian Pelas hospital on Wednesday.  At this point I was exhausted and could barely walk from the car to the wheel chair waiting.  For the next 5 days that I was hospitalized I was given IV’s filled with potassium and magnesium and had blood taken from me twice a day.  I also had visits from specialists like nephrologists, hematologists, and a few others take a look at and none of them could figure out my case.  The highlight of my time in the hospital was when Ailish came and spent the night on the pull out couch.  We got to order papa johns pizza and Miguel brought me brownies that we devoured.  I also got a visit from my APCD who brought more sweets.  Even though I was hospitalized and a little freaked out it wasn’t terrible.  I had AC, cable TV and wifi.  It was almost like being home…except for the fact that I could not leave the floor and had an IV in my arm.  After my five day stay and barely any improvement and not being able to figure out what’s wrong with me the doctors decided they would send me back to Texas to see if the doctors here had any better luck. 

I was released from the hospital on Monday and was driven back to my site to pack up half of my valuables and belongings.  Going back was bittersweet.  I was excited to go home and see my loved ones and get better but I was extremely sad at the thought that I may not be returning.  Ailish came over and helped me pack half of my room.  I was advised to only take valuables just in case I didn’t return.  Everything else would stay put.  I had a half hour to pack up 3 months of my life, say goodby to my host family and then say goodbye to Ailish.  It was the hardest saying goodbye to her as we have become really good friends and I couldn’t imagine living there without her.  Oh and on top of it all I was going to miss her birthday in 2 days.  As I walked out of the house Diego hugged me and Melida blessed me and I was driven back to the hotel for 2 more nights in Managua.  

Missing life events & battling with tarantulas and rodents

This weekend one of my really good friends is getting married and sadly due to the “not allowed to leave the country for the first 6 months rule” I can’t be there.  Yesterday I went to the Peace Corps office for medical things and while I was there checked my mail.  I received on piece of mail…my friend’s wedding invitation for today.  I knew she was getting married today since I left the states but receiving that invitation made it real.  Just like their save the date which she also mailed to me here, it was beautiful.  I opened it and despite myself started to cry.  I cried for a couple of reasons.  One, I’m missing one of the best days of my friend’s life and she truly deserves a beautiful wedding. Secondly, these two are such a great couple you can’t help to want to be around them and I know there day will be so special.  I will also be missing out on seeing my friend’s future husband’s face when he sees her for the first time in her wedding dress which is always my favorite part, besides the cake. Lastly I cried because I’m so happy and excited for them!  I’m excited for their perfect day and I wish I could celebrate with them.   So yes I sat in the empty PCV room of the office crying. 

Missing out on life events is something everyone tells you will happen and most times you know it will happen before you leave  but I’m telling you right now, until the events take place you’re not prepared for it at least I wasn’t.  While I complete my service I will be missing out on at least 2 maybe 3 other weddings of friends (even though I’ll be allowed to go back to the states after this month, I can’t take vacation during certain parts of the year while I’m teaching, meaning I’ll have to miss some weddings ).  I’ve already missed out another friend’s baby being born and I know this will also happen once more.  It’s hard, but the thing that keeps me from going completely nuts is knowing that once I return home whether its to visit or for good I’ll get to be a part of all of my friends lives again and that makes me happy.

So I really have no idea how to transition from that to talking about that to creepy disgusting things so I’m just gonna do it…Last week after returning from a wonderful overnight trip to Granada I walked into my room threw my stuff down and went to get a glass of water.  When I returned I walked over to my bag, I had only moments ago thrown down, to get some headphones, when I noticed this black fury thing which reminded me of a fake spider.  I thought to myself, who would put a fake spider in my room?  Then it hit me, no you’re in Nicaragua this shit is real. I ran to the other room to tell my host dad “Yo tengo una araña en mi cuarto. Ayudame!”  He entered my room with a baseball bat in his hands.  I showed him where it was and he took a swing at it, missed and the thing scurried.  Diego chased after it and finally succeeded in squishing its guts out.  Totally gross. Last night once again as I returned home from dinner I entered my room and immediately saw another tarantula on the far wall on the opposite side of my room.  I was on the phone with Aaron and this time remained calm told him I had another spider and I’d call him back.  Diego had the same routine and walked in with his baseball bat.  This time he took one swing and didn’t miss.  The tarantula was dead. 

I returned to my bed and got under my mosquito and thought I’m awesome I can totally deal with spiders.  About an hour later I got up to get some milk from the kitchen.  I grabbed a glass and was pouring the milk when out of nowhere about 3 feet away from me a rat fell from the ceiling and onto the kitchen counter.  I lost my shit…sorry no better way to explain it.  I screamed and my host dad came running.  The rat stayed on the kitchen counter attempting to climb up the wall, so gross, I turned away as Diego went to get his baseball bat.  I went to my room as I heard Diego continually try to kill the rat with his bat.  This time no luck…the rat remained alive.  Diego searched for it for an hour and couldn’t find it.  It was at this point I decided I probably wasn’t going to sleep and I’m not awesome because I definitely can’t deal with rats.  Honestly that was the first time I’d ever seen a rat in my life  (I saw a mouse not to long ago but a rat…..NO!)  So how did the rat fall from the ceiling, well like most houses in Nicaragua the walls don’t go all the way up to the ceiling and there is a gap.  This means rats and mice can crawl up the walls and walk or fall of the ledges into homes.  What this means for me, as much as I like my host family, I’m going to start looking for a new place one with walls that go to the celling. 

So lot’s has happened and it’s only Saturday morning.  I’m heading out to Managua today to hang out with 2 other PCV’s to grab lunch and try to take my mind off things.  Nothing like an hour and a half bus ride filled with a million people to really start my day off right J.

What the Hell am I doing here?

Everyday this question pops into my head.  On really hard days this is all I think about. But not for one second have I seriously considered marching into the Peace Corps office and telling my boss I quit.  Why haven’t I?  Because I knew this was going to be harder than any job I’ve ever had and I also was told it would be the most rewarding… and so far it has been both.  Now when I say hard what I mean is getting accustomed to certain things like: having no water for a couple of hours during the day (usually right after I come home from running),   riding on a non-air conditioned bus filled with more than double the occupancy and people hanging off the back, getting cat called at every time I walk out my door, hand washing my laundry in a pila (which can be therapeutic until the bus start eating my ankles), the mosquitos everywhere ( I think they actually like off spray),  random fiestas that last for a month (seriously people have been carrying San Pedro around the streets of my town for a month accompanied by a band that explodes bombas or fireworks at the most random times of the day), bartering for less than 40 cents when a moto taxi driver tells me I have to pay 30 cords when I know I should only pay 20 cords (I have become the cheapest person here), all of the noise (roosters, chickens, dogs, cows all hours of the day) and emaciated street dogs that poop and pee everywhere.   So yes some of these things make my life here stressful but it’s a very different kind of stress from I had in the states. 

When I was preparing to graduate college all I could think was that I needed a job. I didn’t really know what kind of job so I took one that paid well but made me stress to the point where I literally sat in front of 2 male bosses and cried my eyes out.  Overworked was an understatement.  After that I took another job to get out of the job I hated only to find out a year later that this job was way worse…I ended up working at that job for 4 years…the last year I cried almost every day  on my way to work (thanks mom for listening to me cry).  What was wrong with those jobs?  Well I could blame the incompetent management but really it was me.  I wasn’t suited for those jobs and every day I worked at those jobs I asked myself, “What the hell am I doing here?”  (Please note my last job before PC I really loved and it was hard to walk away from it because I worked with great people.)  In those jobs I wasn’t living up to my potential which made me so unhappy.  For me both of those jobs were mindless and I felt like every day was ground hogs day.  I was having the same conversations with the same people on repeat.  I knew I couldn’t do that for the rest of my life.

So what’s the difference between those jobs and my job now…Everyday even on the hard ones I can answer my question, What the hell am I doing here?  I was wasting time before Peace Corps; but if I hadn’t had terrible experiences I would not be able to appreciate the good ones.  Peace Corps is a good experience.  I learn something every day and once in a while I get to teach something to.   So what the hell am I doing here? 

• ·         I am working with teachers and co- teaching entrepreneurship classes in high schools
• ·         I am learning about my community and how I can make a difference here
• ·         I am fundraising and writing grants for Empowerment International which is an amazing organization and really makes a difference in the lives of kids.
• ·         I am teaching students and colleagues that they do have opportunities if they can just think outside of the box (something discouraged in Nicaragua).
• ·         I am learning a different language (finally using my brain for something)
• ·         I am learning how to live simply, what most of the world does anyway, so why should it be different for me.
• ·         I am learning to understand and appreciate a different culture
• ·         I am learning to have patience (I struggle with this daily)
• ·         I am learning to appreciate life and just relax (very Nicaraguan)
• ·         I am learning to not take things for granted (water, comfortable bed, hot showers, pretzels, sweet tarts and apples…these last things I’m missing more than hot showers J)
• ·         I am learning how to make a long distance relationship work (I think I have it easier than most as I talk to Aaron every day and less face it he’s pretty much the best guy ever)
• ·         I am learning to be self-confident and appreciate myself more

What the hell am I doing here?   I am challenging myself to live a full life by helping others, helping myself, doing something different and appreciating the time I have here.  No regrets.

The Creeper Incident and Nicaraguan Idol

I was waiting at the bus stop for a friend when a drunk man started stumbling toward me with the usual comments most Nicarguan men say to me or any other “gringa” (totally weird that I’m considered a gringa here).  As he approached more closely I moved and continued to ignore him.  My friend arrived shortly after and we stood waiting for our bus.  As he continued his drunken comments I was honestly surprised that the other Nica men who were at the stop didn’t intervene and tell him to go sleep it off on some street corner.  No comments were made from any of the 4 men that were there, they looked more entertained than anything else which really just pissed me off.  I put up with the drunken comments for what seemed like forever but was about 20 minutes before our bus arrived and we took off. 

Two days after on Tuesday I was walking back from the cyber after talking with Aaron when the procession of the saint and all the people came down the street. The same drunk man was the first to approach me and made some comment about seeing me run every day.  I blew past him and went home.  About 30 minutes later as I was reading in bed the same drunk man starts screaming on my street.  I love you he said in English, “Te quiero” .  I pretty much wanted to throw up.  He continued his antics right outside of my window which faces the streetI was not only scared but mortified, he was doing this in front of my neighbors.  The crazy drunk even asked Diego to open the door for him so he could talk to me. It was at this time I came out of my room and asked my host mom what was going on and she assured me, “Don’t worry, we won’t open the door.”  I didn’t feel that reassured so I slept with a pair of scissors under my pillow and barricaded my bedroom door with a rocking chair. The next day I called the Peace Corps Security guy who is pretty much the coolest guy ever.  He took all of my information and told me he would come to my house that day.  When he showed up he pretended it was just a routine security visit.  He met with my neighbors, my host family and the police.  He asked my neighbors and my host family about the incident the previous night and if they knew the drunks name.  They did.  Apparently this guy is the “big” drunk of the town, which is pretty hard to become considering all of the heavy drinking that goes on here especially during fiesta patronales (to be honest seeing people drink in excess has put me off alcohol entirely, for the time being).  Oh and to make matters worse this guy has mental problems…just my luck. After he me with my family and neighbors he visited the police station and reported the incident on my behalf. 

Since then I haven’t been bothered by the creeper drunk guy and I don’t sleep with scissors under my pillow.

…And now for the truly good part of the blog…Nicaraguan Idol.  So this was one of the first things I had been told after becoming a volunteer that I would be asked to judge an English singing competition.  I couldn’t wait.  My chance finally came this past Tuesday.  I was asked to show up a bit early for the competition so we could start at exactly noon.  Of course in  true Nica form the competition started 2 hours later J…The competition was held in one of the rural schools I co-teach at and I was the only judge that really spoke English.  One judge was a teachers brother who spoke hardly any English and the other was an English professor from the district who could speak more.  So as my professor said I would be the judge that would score the hardest, but I couldn’t.  These kids were getting up in front of their entire school singing songs in a different language, I had to cut them some slack.  I definitely wouldn’t be able to do that.  Honestly, the only time I’ve ever sang songs in Spanish was when I was a little girl and would sing Luis Miguel songs to my mom and grandma for their entertainment. 

There were 7 groups of students and some of their song choices were pretty awesome.  I was serenaded by Rhianna, Backstreet Boys, Lady Gaga and the Offspring.  The offspring song was my favorite, not because these girls were good but because the only word they pronounced correctly in the entire song was the F word.  The song they sang was you’re gonna go far kid, which chorus says “so dance fucker dance”.  When they first said it I thought no they’re not saying that in school but yup they were.  I’m pretty sure I was the only one who picked up on it and had to stop myself from laughing.  By the end of the contest there was unfortunately a 3 way tie between Rhianna, Lady Gaga and Backstreet boys, which meant the groups would have to sing again.  Not only were my ears aching from the singing but from the worst sound system ever that I was seated in front of. By the end of this round we had a clear winner…Lady Gaga. The groups were judged on tone, pronunciation, knowing the lyrics and stage presence.  Lady Gaga won because of the pronunciation and knowing the lyrics but as far as entertainment goes Rhianna group had my vote.  These girls sang Diamond and had a dance routine and had glitter everywhere.  It was a pretty entertaining experience and one I hope to do again soon.

Fiesta Patronales and a Close Call

Two weekends ago was the start of Fiesta Patronales in Diria.  It started off with Hipica which is basically a horse festival where people come and bring their horses and have them “dance” which is really just some trotting.  Fiesta Patronales honors the saint of my town who is San Pedro and for 2 plus weeks they have been carrying around his statue throughout the town during the strangest of times.  They parade around the pueblo with him in all hours of the night and morning and not only have a very obnoxiously loud band with them but they have bombas which are the equivalent of fireworks except 10 times louder.  To say I haven’t had much sleep in the last 2 weeks is an understatement.  But I guess like everything else here its an experience. 

Two Sundays ago after my host family’s family came over for a celebratory lunch my host mom was cleaning up.  I was in my room when I heard her scream “Diego, who is my host uncle and her brother”.  At first I didn’t think anything of it but she continued then I hear her scream I’m going to die.  That’s when I decided I should probably head to the kitchen to see what was going on.  When I got to the kitchen she was grasping at her throat and said she drank poison.  I thought to myself why would you do that?  Diego brought me a water bottle that had pink liquid in it and told me that’s what she drank.  Apparently the domestica had made a cleaning mixture and had put it in a water bottle and Melida thought it was her water and drank it.  As Melida sat in her rocking chair praying I asked Diego what to do…he said we will wait… Kind of strange to me but okay.  I asked Melida if she needed anything and she said milk.  When I opened the fridge there was no milk just my chocolate milk I had planned to have later, but the nice person I am I offered it to her.  She said she needed whit milk so I ran over to the neighbors asked them for some milk and then told them why I needed it.  Of course after that there were a ton of people in my house trying to diagnos melida and everyone was smelling the concoction of cleaner.  After about 20 minutes during which Melida kept asking for a doctor, Diego gave in got in a moto taxi and went for the doctor.  He returned with the doctor in less than 5 minutes.  The doctor was just as calm as Diego, I suspect this isn’t the first time he has been called over to the house for an “emergency” .  As the doctor took her vitals he was cracking jokes with the neighbors and told them she would be fine, even though at this point we still don’t know what she drank…As he smelled the liquid he concluded it was probably just soap and water but to call him later if the domestica told her there was something else in it…and like that he left.  As people began leaving I said goodnight to Melida and she hugged me and said if she dies tonight that I should stay in the house with Diego and that I am a good person.  The next day Melida was alive and kicking eating all sorts of Nacatamales for breakfast.  Turns out it was just soap and water.

That was unxpected...

Today was a good day.  Number 1 its Friday and it’s a free day. I don’t have plans so I lie around in bed, have coffee, and start planning Aaron’s vacation when he comes to visit. After, I head out for my normal run up to the mirador (up the never ending hill I force myself to run up twice) and then decide to go to the grocery store.  Before I head out anywhere especially for my run I mentally prepare myself for remarks that will surely be made by Nica Men.  Whether its cat calls, blowing kisses at me or sounding like Gollum from lord of the rings by calling me preciosa I try to prepare myself by taking a moment, throwing some punches or reminding myself why I’m here.  I’m prepared…Well I thought I was.  What I wasn’t prepared for was getting verbally assaulted by an Expat in a Pali.  I’m use to taking hits from Nica Men but from another American while I’m in Nicaragua…definitely not.

I walked into Pali and had my handy Peace Corps tote bag to carry my umbrella and groceries.  I picked out my stuff and saw what looked to be either an American man or German in there too.  This is uncommon and of course he stands out.  I get behind the American in line to checkout and he starts ranting to the cashier about how terrible America is. First he said to the woman cashier that Nica women are more beautiful than American women, which fine to each his own, but then he starts making outrageous remarks about our President, the first lady and the US.  He finished his rant by telling the cashier that President Daniel Ortega is the best President. The whole time this man is ranting the cashier is just looking at me waiting for me to say something.  She looks as puzzled as I do.  I had plenty to say but my mom raised me better than that and I took the high road.  I looked at him and said in Spanish “I am a Peace Corps volunteer and I will be living here for 2 years.  Have a nice day.” He left.

After he left the woman cashier just looked at me in disbelief that I hadn’t reacted and said “He’s crazy”.  She then proceeded to tell me that she sees me run every day and I must really love it because I run a lot.  I told her I did and thanked her for checking me out.

I guess being here I’m never going to be fully prepared for anything and I just need to go with the punches.  I could have reacted, I had plenty to say to him, but that wouldn’t have done me any good.  The cashier would have thought I was just as crazy as him and two Americans fighting in bad Spanish in a Nicaraguan super market would be pretty ridiculous and have the whole town talking.  I’m glad I didn’t react the way I could have.  I feel better about myself and have no regrets for the way I handled the situation.  The silver lining here, the Nica cashier totally had my back.  She seemed more offended than I was.