Please repost if you watch.
Our city staff deserve to be treated with respect. One has no idea the different pressures they are under unless you know them. Basic respect isn’t too much to ask - like using someone name rather than dismissively calling them “Mr. Attorney” with a sneer.
In Wisconsin they told me to stop at Kwik Trip for gas.
I have knelt in shrines. I have prayed in temples older than the country I was standing in.
I was not prepared for the gas station.
There were nineteen hot foods ready at six in the morning.
I counted them because I did not believe them.
A man beside me was buying two pizzas, and he was not buying them to share.
He was buying them because he was here, and here is where a man buys pizza in Wisconsin.
Inside was a hall so warm I stopped shivering before the door closed.
A wall of donuts called Glazers, still warm, ninety-nine cents.
A wall of jerky I did not know one state could produce.
A hot Cheddarwurst handed to me by a woman who called me honey before I said hello.
And I want to be clear.
The Glazer is not a donut.
The Glazer is a sacrament.
And the bathrooms.
I had been warned about the bathrooms and had dismissed the warning as the pride of a quiet people.
I was wrong to dismiss it.
A coworker was mopping the tile with the devotion of a man tending a garden he loved, and when I thanked him he said, "Have a Kwik day," which I have since learned is what Wisconsin says instead of goodbye, and also instead of drive safe, and also instead of I am glad you exist.
I went in for gas. I was inside for forty minutes.
I came out with a Glazer, a Cheddarwurst, a bag of curds, a coffee better than the four-dollar cup I usually buy, and a feeling I can only describe as having been to church.
I did not need any of it.
I needed all of it.
I have walked through the great cathedrals of the old world. I lit no candle there.
I lit no candle at Kwik Trip either.
But I did buy the Cheddarwurst.
And I understand now that in Wisconsin, this is the same thing.