Diaries of a City Kid: Fresh Eggs

The great part of being in unfamiliar places is not having a clue of what’s to come. There is always something peculiar about every place – whether it be a country, a province or state, a big city or a small town. Something is bound to be discovered.

The beauty of it, is what’s so bizarre to me, is such a regular fixture for you. It didn’t take long for me to discover a quirk in this town. I had been living here for about a month when I witnessed the most puzzling exchange.

The weekend was on its way and I was yearning for a haircut. I wasn’t having any luck squeezing one in during the week so I figured I’d wait until Saturday. A significant amount of snow was still on the ground but the sun had been shining down over Birch Avenue.

I parked my car and walked down the street, scouting for a good place to get a hair cut. I remember being quite wary, I’m very particular when it comes to my hair. I needed to find my new barber, one that could do me up, how I was done up back home. For a small town, I was surprised to find a few places to choose from, all fairly busy, so I strategically chose the barbershop that was the least busy from the few.

I walked in and sat down on the chair to wait for my turn. The barbershop was simple and conveyed a small town feeling, as I expected. There was nothing out the ordinary about it.

And then it happened.

A lady walked in the door with a bill in her hand asking for a dozen of eggs… my mouth dropped. Was she serious? I mean she must have been – but a dozen of eggs from the barbershop? I was puzzled but quite astonished at the convenience. The fact someone could buy eggs from anywhere but the grocery store is unconventionally brilliant.

As a boy who grew up in the city, purchasing eggs from anywhere other than a grocery store or the corner bodega, never crossed my mind.

Looking back, I can’t help but laugh. I was so caught off guard.

As I watched that remarkable exchange in awe, the barber had caught a glimpse of my rattled facial expression and looked to me with a smirk.

I left the shop that day wondering if the next time I get my haircut, would I get some eggs too? Buying free-range eggs at the barbershop, still weird to me, but I get it.

I almost had forgotten about that eggperience until the other week while I was at the movie theatre. I was standing in line, indecisively debating whether I get popcorn or candy or both.

In the midst of my anxious decision making, I happened to look over and that’s when I saw a little sign advertising eggs for sale… I couldn’t believe it… not the movie theatre, too.

I really have never seen anything like it.

It’s odd.

It’s funny.

It’s egg-ceptional.

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