Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

So, I was on my commute to the office to what, now, has become nothing short of a mini-Detroit, and suddenly something from the past that my mind suppressed comes to me.  It was prompted by seeing the same sign that I had seen that day of the traumatic incident.  I recall wanting to blog about it right away, but it was too painful.  It made me feel dirty and it was all the I could do to keep from passing out or getting ill.

It is one of those things that you hear about, but think, "that will never happen to me."  Well, it happend.  My sixth sense told me to not go in, but the gift bags are so ridiculously cheap that I could not resist--looking back, I should have never walked into the Dollar Tree.  What I would see next, would rival www.peopleofwalmart.com. 

The creatures were all shapes, colors and sizes, but mostly came in extra-large, black, and size-two of them could not walk side by side down the aisle side by side.  They were mainly dressed in very tight t-shirts--although in their defense...a sheet would have been tight, so this was probably more appropriate for the Dollar Tree Department/Grocery/Card Shop/plus whatever the hell else you can think of under a dollar-Store.  It was not just their appearance...they spoke a different language.  One of the creatures yelled at their offspring, "taneesha-use getta yoazz hair nah!"  WTF?  I was scared.  I was in a land where I proved to be an outsider.

I hurried to the check-out, after picking up my gift bags, only to find that the line was all the way down one aisle 1/2 way to the back of the store.  I could tell the creatures were angry, I heard one of them say, "diz-ez-da-waz-deez-crackerz-do."  I could make out "crackers," but I could only guess why he was angry...maybe they ran out of crackers, or something like that.  Minutes later, a group of white creatures appeared.  Their speech was broken, but I was able to understand them.  Originally from KY, I had seen similar creatures at my family reunion.  The mother creature lit up a cig--the line was long and her need for carbon-monoxide was very strong.  Actually, had she not been smoking Marlboro Reds, I probably would have tried to bum one to deal with her obnoxious offsprings, Dale and Bobby Jean. I felt faint.  I blacked out and woke up in my car with no gift bags. 

I feel as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders by finally writing about this.  I could not leave Madeira for 2 months and was forced to shop at their overly, we are screwing you on gift bag, prices.  Dealing with Culture Shock Disorder is very real and painful mental disease.  Please, if you or you suspect a friend are suffering get help immediately-remember that you are not alone.