Picking Up In Lincolnton

Lincolnton, North Carolina. I’ve arrived at the shipper to pick up the dreaded Philadelphia load. Naturally it’s not ready. And will be a live load to boot. So much for getting it up there and getting rid of it. I’d briefly entertained a fevered hope of delivery being a drop and hook. But I asked my dispatcher (yes, the recently designated fuck-tard) if it was. He hasn’t responded. Which means either “no” or he doesn’t know.
Which all means the same to me. I’m not about to go into the belly of the beast without some assurances. If I go in there in the middle of the night and can’t drop, I’ll be fucked for a place to park until the morning.
In other news, I encountered a young lady here at the shipper who made me think about some things. Pretty girl. Not beautiful by popular standards, but very pretty in a pleasing way. She had the kind of face you wouldn’t mind looking at for the rest of your life. Her bottom lip was pierced. She had a tribal tattoo on her upper arm that was partially hidden by the sleeve of her t-shirt (couldn’t tell what it was). Her t-shirt was very tight and showed off nice breasts. Across her chest was an image of a female stick figure with her foot on the head of a prostrate male stick figure, with the caption “sometimes you have to put your foot down”.
Ah, to be 20 again.

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