Juxtapose

So tonight, courtesy of the oh-so-awesome Mark and the oh-so-awesome Virginia Tech tee shirt that he sent me recently, I was given one of the most endearing and best pick-up lines ever. As in ever before. And, of course, a slightly entertaining story to write about in the middle of the night.

Sar and I had wandered into American Eagle after a long night of eating, buying school notebooks and multiplication flashcards for Sar's class (they're Indonesian refugees, so she's volunteering her time...), and Sar, as usual, was debating on the jeans. Which wash? Which fit? Which size? All legitimate questions requiring a try-on in the fitting room. I had to explain how to use the signs denoting which jeans were which to her, but after that, she was pretty much on her own and I felt a certain sense of pride in making a difference. It's like those old Nickelodeon commercials used to say - "Making a difference makes you feel great!"

As Sar was sizing up the clearance jeans in the back section of the store and I was looking at the ones up front which I obviously was not in the least position to afford, I heard a voice behind me say, "There's West Virginia on your back, you know." I wheeled around on my right foot and informed this person that it was not, in fact, West Virginia, but Virginia, without the West. Freddie Prinze Jr. (as I like to call him, since he bore a striking resemblance to a slightly geekier version of the teen slasher/bubblegum movie heartthrob of that very name) did a Quick-Think and made up some snappy excuse about my hair covering the picture up so it looked like West Virginia. Which totally couldn't happen, for the record, but I smiled and let it slide because I'm nice like that and because, really, that was just the greatest pick-up line ever.

Freddie and I started talking and he got pretty chummy. He told me that, actually, the reason he mentioned Virginia was that he was from North Carolina and lived on his grandparents' tobacco farm in a town of 104 people and that he moved up when his father was transferred AND that the only reason he works at A+E is because he likes the employee discount and he likes ringer tees (which, obviously, mine is). The glorious part of it all is that, first of all, he wasn't even from Virginia, and second, he didn't even know his geography. Anyways, he was cute. He told Sar and I to stick around and watch the action, since he was actually waiting by the front door to catch a HARDENED CRIMIN--... I mean, a shoplifter when she went through the doors. Apparently, if you cover certain kinds of those little tag things that come on clothes, the alarm won't sound. So he was gonna wave a tag by the door when she walked through and catch her. A-ha! Ingenious! I thanked him and floated around towards the front. Sure enough, this chick in a miniskirt and pink shirt walked out, squeezing her hand closed and shutting her eyes. It was right out of a movie. I witnessed a shoplifting!!!

Freddie was all on it. He spoke into his mic and gave this mini-briefing to the other employees, describing the hand squeeze, the eye-closing. Then he called them "ladies." Southern gentility at its best, guys. These southerners.. I'm telling you. It's not a lie what they say about them! Freddie's coworker, who I like to call Seth Green (due to a striking resemblance to a taller, brown-haired version of the teen slasher/bubblegum movie heartthrob of the same name) called security and then both Freddie and Seth started talking about the dumbness of stealing. At this point, Sar was still in the fitting rooms and I was out on the couch where most people try on shoes, so Seth and Freddie came over to chat with me and I expressed my disappointment in not seeing any particular action like I expected. "Can you guys, like, run down the hall and tackle that girl?" They said no. For a while there, prior to that answer, I might have considered working at American Eagle, just for the fun of tackling shoplifters. I mean, why go to nursing school with job specs like that already readily accessible?

So it was a fun-filled night with lots of crazy goings-on. I learned that everyone at American Eagle looks like a teen movie heartthrob, for the most part, and that they're all in bands. Apparently, I'm not in the scene enough, because I didn't recognize any of their band names (we got the entire band history, actually). Also, I'm crazy about those southern accents. I think I'm going to begin cultivating one for myself, for future use.

Anyways, if you must know, Freddie and I parted amicably. I back to my car and then on to pick up a Jones soda and hot chocolate with Sar so that we could sit in the Barnes and Noble parking lot to talk for another hour, and Freddie, presumably, went back home to hang up his khaki cargo and striped yellow polo crimefighting suit and take out his cart piercing (which doubles as a boomerang, I assume), sleep, and live to enforce the American Eagle law another day. Fight on, Freddie.