Exodus Highway

This past weekend proved to me that I have very little tolerance for the impolite. Jay and I have been working for his parents at their chip truck which travels to different events in the London area this summer and our more recent experiences have been with St. Thomas. No offense to anyone who is from there or who knows someone who is from there, but that town is miserable. Every second person treated us as though we were completely incompetent. I know a few people who come from St. Thomas--absolutely stellar individuals--but after these past couple of weeks I am beginning to wonder how they could possibly be born out of that town. I got to a point where when one guy demanded his money back for some ridiculous reason, I told him he was more than welcome to his money returned and good riddance. Yep, I too have a breaking point. Just because I am covered in grease and working in a chip truck, is it too much to ask for the same respect that I would show were the roles reversed? Anyhow, that is why we need Jesus.

The point is: nothing is more refreshing than the drive home after working for 25 or 30 hours in an event trailer where you yourself feel a little deep fried and cranky by the end of it all, serving the embittered and tired, and having no where to vent about it except to yourself in the Johnny on the Spot on your 2 minute breaks.