A Tim Horton's Memory.

I like Columbus, Ohio alot.

Like.

It was a place I called home for about 13 years. In fact, I've only lived in three other cities since leaving my hillside home in Martins Ferry, Ohio: Columbus, Cleveland and Akron. Moving to Northeast Ohio was a welcome change to my psyche and my attitude.

Besides Buckeye football Saturdays, plenty of good buddies to drink with and easy access to a number of running trails, my fourth favorite thing about Columbus was Tim Horton's.

I loved the fucking place. Nothing tasted quite better than an old-fashioned glazed donut and a medium coffee in the morning before driving to work.

Which reminded me of this one story...

It was winter, probably Janurary or February. It was sleeting, slushy and very cold outside. As I pulled into the Clintonville Tim Horton's to order my mainstay (see above), I noticed a gigantic long line at the drive in stretching around the entire red building.

Quickly, I pulled into an open parking space next to the entrance, and decided to run in the store to get my donut and coffee.

I hopped out of the car, ran into the shop and was standing in line behind a nice elderly lady who was taking her good, old sweet time.

"Hey, buddy," someone said from behind. I turned my head and saw this 6-8 black man in who slightly reminded me of Biz Markie. He was wearing a postal uniform and he looked slightly perturbed.

"Hi," I said not really sure what to say. I glanced forward. The old lady was still ordering her whatever in front of me.

"Are you the fool that left your car running outside?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"You shouldn't do that," he said.

"Do what?"

He rolled his eyes, then put his hands on his hips. "Leave your fucking car running, while you in the store."

"Seriously?" I asked not believing the conversation I was having.

"Don't you do that again," he ordered.

"What?"

"I said don't do that again," he shouted.

"CAN I HELP YOU," shouted the Tim Horton's lady at the counter. The old lady left and it was my turn to order.

I looked at Biz. I looked back at the Tim Horton's lady. I placed my order.

"Did you hear me?" the large man asked.

I turned toward him. "Look, I heard you, but why do you care what I do with my car."

He gave me an angry glare. "Don't do that again," was all he said.

I paid the lady, she gave me my donut and coffee and I headed towards the door.

"Hey," he yelled.

I looked around. My heart was pounding. I was preparing myself for a fight.

"If I see you here, and I see your car running in the parking lot, I'm a gonna steal it," he screamed. "That will teach you a fuckin' lesson, honkey"

Everyone in the store looked towards me. Somebody just called me a honkey and meant it.

"Whatever, dude," I said and left the store.

That was the last time I saw Biz the postman - almost seven years ago.

Now, everytime I leave my car running when I run into a coffee shop or store, I always picture that guy and his stupid Biz Markie head, sneaking up, stealing my car and burning rubber onto the highway screaming "I told you so!"

Thanks a lot, Biz. You son of a bitch.

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