He went to the grocery store?

My days these days are jam packed.  Between work and a new commitment to my exercise program, I'm basically into 12 hour days.  Today was no different.

I left the gym and decided to run into the store to grab some chicken (God, thank you for chicken, but chicken 20 different ways is getting old), Landshark, limes and a couple other items.  I grabbed everything I needed about as efficiently as a guy in a store can and headed for the checkout aisle.

I put my items on the belt and could tell by the way the younger clerk was eye-balling me I would need to get out my I.D.  I was in gym clothes and shaved this morning.  I was right.  She seemed sheepish about asking so I made it easy and said, "You need to see my I.D., right?"  She nodded and I was already ready with my I.D. when I heard the bagger, a younger looking fella singing.  I heard him sing, "...now he lives in the islands, fishes the pilings, and drinks his green label each day..."  This was so weird, I couldn't process it but immediately, instinctively joined in.  We were now singing together - "writing his memoirs, losing his hearing, but he don't care what most people say..."  Just then the kid stopped singing and said, "You're singing the song way too fast!  I am trying to burn a little time down here bagging and you are singing the song way too fast."  At this point, I noticed the kid might be a bit off.  Not saying anything bad, really, hell, I'm probably a bit off, but I think he had some emotional problems.  I looked at the cashier and said to her and the bagger, "What are the chances that he is singing a song that I know by heart at the very moment I walk up and then he condemns my singing??!!"  We all laughed a bit and then I turned to the kid and broke into song again - "...through eighty six years of perpetual motion, if he likes you, he'll smile and he'll say..."  I tee'd him up for the best line and he nailed it!  "Jimmy, some of it's magic, some of it's tragic, but I had a good life all the way."  We high fived.

I said to the young man, "Have you ever seen a Jimmy Buffett concert?"  He replies, "No, but would you believe I am a son of a son of a sailor?"  I hesitated, pondered the question and replied, "Yeah, we're in Savannah, so that sounds possible."  He continued, "Well, I'm from New Jersey."  I said to him, "So was Captain Tony."  He looked perplexed.  I said, "Do you know who Captain Tony is?"  "No, sir."  I said, hey, when you get home look up the song by Jimmy Buffett called Last Mango In Paris.  You're gonna love it!  He said, "Okay, can I help you get your groceries to the car?"  "No, I'm not old and infirm yet.  Next time I'm in, we'll sing some of Last Mango, okay?"  "Deal."

Just another weird day in the perpetual Vortex of Margaritaville that I have apparently cultivated.