Fishy Boo Boo’s and Wal-Mart Wednesday

It has been going on for some time now. There are just those weeks where the days run together. The days go by like that movie Groundhog Day. Then a certain day of the week comes and I’m ripped back to reality by the contents of the baggage cart as they bring it planeside.

As I’m in my morning groove loading the airplane, the first of usually two boxes enter the aircraft. They are usually pretty heavy. They are about 3ftx3fx1ft. They sound as if they are filled with water because, well, they are. They are scribbled on with a giant black sharpie. “Wal-Mart – Cow Town”. The box usually has some sort of sea/underwater dwelling creature printed on the box with a Florida address printed underneath it.

Ah, It must be Wednesday. Wal-Mart Wednesday.

You see, every Wednesday since I have started this job, I have received these boxes bound for the pet section in the Wal-Mart in Cow Town. It is their weekly shipment of fish to be sold as pets. It never fails. Just like clockwork there they are on Wednesday morning.

I had no idea that the good people of Cow Town enjoyed keeping aquariums. I mean, how many pet fish can one store sell in a week?

I have never had the opportunity to see inside one of these boxes but I can only imagine. Seeing parents and children alike leave pet stores, I Imagine that they are filled with pint or quart sized bags of water containing betas, goldfish and oscars placed ever so carefully in the box.

Can you imagine that ride? That has got to be worse than Space Mountain at Disney. Swiped out of your peaceful existence by a net and put in bag. Then put in a box. Peering through the cellophane you see your buddy you saw at the Reef Bar the night before, both of you now terrified when the darkness comes as they close up the box. You’re put in the back of a delivery truck that goes to the airport. Then you are hurled through the air at close to 600 mph enduring, light to moderate turbulence at FL350, and an ILS to CAT II mins. Now you get processed through a sort unit, tossed into a baggage cart that rambles to an unpressurized aircraft that finally makes its way to Cow Town.

The final blow comes when some package truck driver grabs a hold of the box you and your buddy are in and exclaims in his best motherese voice, “Look at the little fishy boo boos!”

Yep, it’s Wednesday.