There's a Shortage of Fritos Bean Dip

Southern air is like breathing in hot soup steam. That’s dramatic but give Mom, Dad, and me a break (we have spent most of our lives in the desert). This past weekend, I met my parents in Atlanta and we drove down to Pensacola for my cousin’s wedding. I spent a good chunk of my childhood in the car. We’d road-trip up to Oregon to meet Mom’s side of the family, and down to Vegas to see Dad’s. I played a lot of soccer tournaments in The Bay Area—the car would smell a lot better on the way there than the way back. We’d drive to San Diego for vacation and to Sacramento just for fun. Maybe all that staring out the window is what made me a daydreamer. 

None of us had been to Georgia or Alabama before. We passed a lot of churches, billboards for churches, and bright green trees. Trips always goes like this: Dad drives, Siri navigates, and Mom sleeps. I queue the music from the backseat – I know just the right songs to get Dad singing and I sing along. We stopped at Buc-ee’s in Auburn—a massive 53,470 square foot gas station that felt like an airport terminal (although probably with a lot more guns). 

Amidst the Disneyland-like chaos, rows of merch, and lines to meet Bucky The Beaver himself, Mom and I finally made it to the snack aisle to grab our go-to: Fritos Scoops and Fritos Bean Dip. So, we’re standing in the overstimulating building. Screaming children. Brisket orders over the intercom. Ice tumbling from the soda fountain. 

Mom looked at me and said, “You know there’s a Bean Dip shortage?” I didn’t. “I guess they’re all at Buc-ee's,” she laughed. And in that moment, I was like damn, Mom that is profoundly symbolic. 

There’s a shortage of Bean Dip. Just like there’s a shortage of road trips together. The more I age, the more time feels finite. Names of kids in my class are replaced by names of coworkers. It’s no longer playground gossip but conversations about taxes. I live 2,682 miles away from Mom and Dad, but at least we have The Head and The Heart and Fritos Bean Dip to keep us close. I don’t know when our next road trip together will be, but I look forward to it. I’ll always look forward to it.

what’s your gas station order?

writing this reminded me of this sad website that a professor showed my class during freshman year of college

if you’re reading this, i love you

xx

grace