Alabama: A God-Forsaken State

While buying beer at a Texaco outside Mobile, Alabama before we dashed into a motel for the night and waited out a storm, I learned something. First I bought the beer. Then I asked, “Do you sell lottery tickets here?”

“It is illegal,” the Indian man behind the counter said with a perfect Apu Nahasapeemapetilon accent. “Lottery is illegal in this state.”

“No kidding?”

“It is a God-forsaken state! I can’t wait to move back to New York,” he confessed.

I laughed.

“See that fat woman out there? She’s going to ask you for money. Don’t give her any! Give her hell. I do not want her here. She scares away my customers!”

I told him I wouldn’t give her any money. Lisa drove up after filling up the van, and I left the store with my beer.

“What were you guys talking about,” Lisa asked when I jumped into the van.

“That woman — he said she’d ask me for money.”

“She asked ME for money! She was really annoying.”

“And — you’re going to love this — he said Alabama is a God-forsaken state. It is a God-forsaken state!” I repeated in the accent.

Well then, we’ll be moving right along, Alabama. Too bad about the God-forsaken thing. Best of luck in the future.