Yesterday was free slurpee day at 7-11. For absolutely nothing, each person got to have a 7.11 oz of the slurpee of your choice for free. And because the stores didn't advertise it with banners, there was nary a queue. God, I love 7-11.
Zvi and I picked up our slurpees after lunch. To be honest, I don't think I'd ever bought a slurpee at 7-11. Or if I did, it was at least 15 years ago. When I was still in Sri Lanka. But I liked how it was just understood that we'd get slurpees. And how even though we talked it up so much, we were both surprised that it was carbonated.
Around 2PM, bored at work (why, I never), my mind started craving another slurpee but oddly, my stomach told me to hold still. I asked if Zvi's stomach was also sending him signals. His was not, he said. But his Japanese co-worker's was. Perhaps it's an Asian thing, he suggested. And so, like the good researcher that I am, I set out to investigate the matter and recruited whoever I could. Unfortunately, all I could manage to round up was an Inuit, a Pakistani, and a Chinese kid, like the setup of some bad joke. Even more unfortunate was that the Pakistani and Chinese kid had never had a slurpee. That would've been OK had they not spent a few minutes in the store sampling each flavor, comparing notes, frowning their brows and puckering their lips to deliberate the full flavorfication of each one. As if there were differences beyond color among the slurpees. Some people just don't get the spirit of free slurpee day.
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