Shift Change: Tales From Fruitcakeville

As many of you know, for a long time during college I worked as a clerk in a gas station in Ames. I've often say that at some point during everyone's life, they should be required to work at a gas station. You'll learn things that you'll never learn in a book. You'll see things you'd see nowhere else. You'll meet people you would have otherwise never imagine even existed. In short, you'll become aware of a world - a culture - a way of life that 95% of Americans don't even know about.

I could tell you stories about working in a gas station that would probably blow your mind. Murderers, thiefs, rich people, poor people, nice people and mean people, normal people and freaks beyond belief, honest-to-god giants and stinky midgets - I encountered them all.

But beyond all else there was Fruitcakeville. Fruitcakeville was, and to my knowledge, still is an apartment complex home to some of the weirdest people you'll ever meet. Cory Cramer and I named the apartment "Fruitcakeville" because they always came over to our store to buy stuff and every single one of them were weirdos. Seriously. There were wican priestesses, a guy we called Sammy Davis Jr., a guy who drank one case of diet coke per day, two chain smoking old ladies who lived together and fought all the time, a bald old guy who had one leg that was shorter than the other, a short little midget who never bathed and drank coffee constantly. I'm not judging, but I am being honest...one way or the other, in some way, everybody who lived in Fruitcakeville was weird.

This sets the scene.

Well, once upon a time, I had a date. Where did she live at the time? Uh, you guessed it...Fruitcakeville. This should have been my first red flag. Cory warned me against it - "What are you thinking? She lives at Fruitcakeville." "It's okay, don't worry about it...she's 'in between' apartments and staying with a friend." I was so young...so naive.

This brings me to one of the only two times I ever actually went to Fruitcakeville. It was a dark and stormy night. I remember it well...and for no good reasons. I was looking for apartment #19. It's difficult to describe, but the apartments at Fruitcakeville are set up like little pods inside - each outside door opens to a little hallway where there are four apartments. After walking down a long, dark sidewalk, I opened up a door that seemed right and stepped inside.

Instantly, I was staring at four doors - two at my right and two at my left. I looked at my left and saw #20 and #21. I turned across the hallway and knocked on the door...

Nothing. I knocked again. Then, from inside the apartment comes a deep, grizzly, haggard woman's voice, "Come on in!"

I paused for a second. This seemed unusual. Not only did I expect to have been met at the door by SOMEBODY, I certainly did not expect to hear the voice I heard...Perhaps the voice was her roommate? "Oh, god...I hope not." With some hesitation and a deep breath, I opened the door.

The door opened into the the emptiness of a completely dark room. Nothing but the whiteish-blueish flickering light of a small television in the corner. Through the dim blueish light, across the room on a beat-up old futon, I could see an enormous woman sitting watching TV. She was sitting in the middle of the futon with a frosty can of Old Milwaukee sitting propped up on her knee. Other than that, there was total darkness.

"What can I do for you, sonny?" I was stunned. Absolutely speechless. I stood there in the doorway with my mouth wide open. It was only about five seconds, but it felt like an eternity.

"Umm, is, uhh, 'Jane Doe' here?"

"Nobody by that name lives here...but come on in!"

"Uh, no thanks." I shut the door and stood there for a second, thanking God. I looked up at the door...

"Oh, crap."

I had knocked on apartment #18.

Like I said, everyone who lives in Fruitcakeville is a weirdo.