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Panties for a Dime
Our PX is a fascinating place. It appears to be staffed by locals with just a few American employees in the upper leadership positions. This makes for some interesting experiences. One of the first things I learned is that no matter what you want, it will be here tomorrow. Need a 3M plastic hook with a sticky back? They may be out of them, but the person stocking the shelf will assure you that tomorrow you may return to find the product you desire. Colgate toothpaste, coffee mugs, rabid two-headed koalas…tomorrow, tomorrow, it’ll be here, tomorrow. You’re only a day away.
The PX staff also appears to have the tendency to overestimate how much of a particular product they can sell. Sometimes this works to your advantage. For example, last week they had way too many tiny-sized women’s running shoes (size 6.5 and smaller). They decided to blow them out for $18 a pair. The wife now has a beautiful pair of Asics running shoes heading her way for a total cost of less than $25 shipped.
…and sometimes it’s just weird. Panties. Lacy black women’s panties. Underwear that looks too uncomfortable to pick up, much less wear in a combat zone. The PX has a rack full of these monstrosities displayed strategically between the Underarmor and corn chips. Apparently $0.79 each was above the market price for these jewels, so now they are on clearance (“Camp Specialâ€) for $0.10 each. Now, my first reaction was disbelief that these are offered for sale, since their obvious intended use is outlawed in combat zones. This was followed closely by the thought that these were an incredible deal for a dime each! What do panties go for in the states? Hell, I don’t know, but I’m guessing at least $1. Somebody could clean up if they’re in the market for some women’s underwear.
So now I’m wondering how I can work this to my advantage. Send them back to the wife? No. Too weird, and the post office here is a royal PITA. No way am I standing in front of a postal Marine and inventorying a box full of panties to complete the customs form. With that option out the window I’ve almost given up. But they’re 10 for a dollar… with no tax! The penny-saver in me just won’t let this go.
Now I’m thinking practical joke material. I wonder what my roommate would think of a negligee explosion all over his rack, with pictures taken to capture the moment, of course. Yeah. That sounds good! I could even mail a picture of it back to his wife. Maybe I could put them on his head while he’s sleeping and snap a photo. Hmm…more difficult, but the payoff is substantial. I’m liking this more and more. So if I’m going to pull this off, I have to buy 10-20 pairs of panties. Crap! There’s Marines everywhere, of all ranks, and I want to stroll up to the counter with one score of panties in arm. This could only be accomplished after waiting in line for a few minutes, during which time I am sure to catch the glance of those standing to my front and rear. Great Odin’s Raven, what if the cashier doesn’t know the price!?! She’ll start babbling to her supervisor in languages I’ve never heard of and waving these things in the air like a redneck on a jumbo-tron.
So there I stood, square between the Underarmor and corn chips, shopping basket in hand, trying to look like I was searching for the right type of deodorant, sweating bullets, and saying “Oh God, please take this cup from me.†I couldn’t do it. I left the PX disappointed in myself. The 19-year old Midnight would have procured those panties without batting an eye. I am only a shell of my former self. For shame.
ROFL