I was planning to get better about writing while I was on vacation. And then life kicked in and vacation turned into a family emergency (someday I’ll explained how this was always fated to happen). Most of my non-vacation was hard and exhausting, but I did have quite the adventure trying to hunt down some girlie magazines for my great uncle.
My non-vacation occurred in Lake Geneva, WI (the home of my great uncle Rex) – a southern Wisconsin resort town which is quite small and seems to exude Midwestern sensibilities. So, when I asked Rex (who is now stuck in a nursing home, mostly in bed) if he wanted me to get him some magazines to read, I was expecting him to ask for a Maxim and maybe a People. Instead he requested a magazine “where they show some skin”. It wasn’t too surprising once I thought about it. He may be 87, but he spent the bulk of his years as one of the maintenance men at the Playboy Club in Lake Geneva.
My first stop was Walmart (don’t judge – it’s a small town and there aren’t too many big stores). I could have sworn I had at least seen censored magazines behind the cigarette counter at a Walmart once before (hey, I was curious what kinds of items wound up stored behind a counter), but perhaps I imagined it. I asked a teenage boy working in the entertainment section if they carried them, or if he knew where I could find one, and cause him to turn red and let me know he wasn’t from the area. His co-worker suggested I try the gas station next door. So, I picked up a Maxim (just in case I couldn’t find anything else) and headed out the door.
Mobile (or at least that particular station) didn’t have any magazines and suggested the Walgreen’s across the street. Again, no luck, but they suggested the Piggly Wiggly or the video store in downtown. On my way to the Piggly Wiggly, I stopped at the liquor store. The guy working there looked at me like I was crazy and told me he didn’t have any idea where I could find a Playboy.
Before I made it to the Piggly Wiggly, I stopped at a local pub to pick up a polish sausage for my uncle. Thankfully, my mom suggested I ask the bartender if he had any ideas. The guy laughed at my “story” about needing the magazine for my uncle, but let me know that I could probably find what I was looking for at the gas station store a few doors down. Thankfully, Shell did in fact have a whole rack of girlie magazines! Realizing that 1 playboy wouldn’t last too long, I also grabbed a Hustler and made my way back to the nursing home…
Apparently I’ve lead too sheltered an existence. Blame it on my being female. I HAD NO IDEA HUSTLER WAS SOOOOO RAUNCHY! And of course, that magazine turned out to be preferable to the Maxim & Playboy, so I fear there are going to be more Hustlers in my future (or perhaps I’ll just get him a subscription so I won’t have to buy them on other trips). My mom and I looked through it to pass the time and I had to laugh at how many times my mom’s jaw dropped (she didn’t know how bad it was either).
I’d like to tell you how scarred I am from the whole experience, but in fact, it was pretty funny. I don’t like the idea of pornography, but if looking at a couple pictures brightens an 87 year old’s day, then so be it. I say good for him for still being interested 
