Buc-ee’s?

The first Buc-ee’s Truck Stop is scheduled to open in Arizona this week, and I’m struggling to understand the feverish excitement. Since I’m old, I’ve been to my fair share of truck stops on turnpikes and interstates across the United States. Yes, I’ve been through Texas, too, but never stopped at Buc-ee’s. On June 22, Buc-ees will open its first west of Texas, 74,000 square foot, 120 fuel pump, restaurant, and convenience store in Goodyear. All of the surrounding hotels have been booked, and traffic patterns have been rerouted to facilitate the expected crowds. According to its news release, fans can line up at 6:00 AM, with the grand opening scheduled for 8:00 AM. With temperatures predicted to be in excess of 100 degrees, patrons are advised to bring water bottles and chairs for the anticipated long lines.

Personally, I am mystified by all this hoopla. Granted I got up at 4:00 AM on Black Friday in search of a Furby. Years later, I stood in a short line with my youngest to buy the newly-released Beanie Baby. But this septuagenarian has NO interest in renting a hotel room and the next morning standing in line at a truck stop to buy a beaver tee shirt or a bbq sandwich. And given the debacle in the Middle East, they’re certainly not giving away gas! Why bother?

Kudos and congratulations to Buc-ee’s for employing two hundred Arizonans. Kudos and congratulations to your marketing department for creating such a outstanding success. And perhaps, someday when I road trip to San Diego, I’ll make a pit stop at your establishment.

NIMBY

An acronym which has been around for forty-six years–not in my backyard. Originally, it was coined to oppose governmental or environmental changes to one’s neighborhood, such as a nuclear plant, low-income housing, or commercial development. But its meaning has morphed over time to include most everything no one wants, until….disaster strikes.

  1. “Why weren’t we warned of the impending floods in the Texas High Country?” Hmm. You weren’t warned because the state legislature denied your numerous requests for a $77,000 weather alert system. Instead, the legislature has proposed moving the Challenger Space Shuttle from the Smithsonian to Houston at the cost of $300 million! It’s all about priorities.
  2. “Where is the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA), and why is ICE Barbie here?” Because ICE Barbie directs FEMA, an agency destined for the chopping block, as a wasteful, unnecessary nuisance. Further ICE Barbie is a pro at dealing with disasters. She dons her combat gear, pulls out her AK-47 and fires.
  3. “Where are Senator Cruz and POTUS?” Cruz is viewing the ancient ruins in Greece, and his highness is golfing. After all, it’s the weekend.

But this is a disaster, and it’s in my backyard! I need help.

I understand, but you denied help when it was in someone else’s backyard. You slashed funding and personnel without any thought to the consequences. I mourn the loss of so many innocent lives that were lost to your callousness and greed.

Oh Package! Where Art Thou?

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Every year I send navel oranges to friends and family.  Since navels are “Christmas oranges,” I usually mail them before the US Post Office gets overwhelmed with packages. And again, this year I did so on December 11.  The boxes went to New York, Ohio, and to Texas.  Since they were sent priority mail, I had tracking slips.

However, I usually get a text or a call from the recipient long before I get around to checking on them.  I’d heard from New York and from Ohio, but not from my sister in Texas.  Curious.  I texted: Did you get the citrus?  “No” was her reply.  Now, I was involved in a mystery, for according to geography, Texas is much closer to Phoenix than NY or OH. I entered the tracking number to find the lost parcel.  OMG!  I was astounded!  The oranges and limes must have decided to go on adventure!

They fled my sister’s Houston suburb, went to downtown Houston–perhaps to ride the Ferris wheel, and then took off to Dallas.  In Dallas, they were sent back to my local post office–less than five miles from my home.  According to tracking, those bad boys arrived on December 18.  Christmas and New Year’s came and went.  No citrus returned.  Weird.

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On January 4, I received a brown envelope from the mailman.  Enclosed was this box top. (Since the original was addressed correctly and neither my sister, nor I want to be deluged with fan mail, I altered the label.)  Also enclosed was a letter, dated December 24 from a Dallas postal facility.  It read:  An empty wrapper with your address was found in the mail and is believed to have been separated from a parcel during handling (see attached portion of the wrapper.) Really?  The package was allegedly in Phoenix on the 18th.  How could the top of a large, flat-rate box been separated from it…unless, someone in the postal service knoshed on oranges and squeezed lime in beer?

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Included was a form to file for missing items.  A laborious form that mandated receipts for whatever was in the box, plus serial and model numbers, sex and size of clothing articles, etc.  I tossed the form.  I have better things to do than worry about errant citrus.  However, the next time I send a box to my sister, it will be filled with….

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