This Just In...Walmart = Redneck

I'm not entirely sure when I became an elitist snob. Maybe it began when I started spelling theater "theatre." Or maybe when I started to openly mock people who like Jessica Simpson. We can never be sure.

But, oh yes, I've become a snob.

Case in point: Yesterday I had to go get a key to my apartment made so that Frank would have some way to enter the apartment that did not involve an unlocked door and a flashing neon sign that said "Door's Open, Please Come On In And Steal My Huge TV." Despite living in a city that is larger than some northern states, the only place that makes keys in Dallas is Walmart. And the nearest Walmart is outside the 635 loop, which means it's a fullblown roadtrip to get out there from my house. I, of course, chose the path of least resistance and brainpower, choosing to make this trip from my office, at rush hour, when I get off work. Which meant that the 6 mile trip from my office to Walmart manages to take just over 37 minutes and I get flipped off twice in the process (returned only once, because I am a gentleman).

I get to the store, walk in the door, and it's bedlam - sheer redneck insanity purified, distilled and capped into a single enclosed warehouse space. Tiny children run barefoot across the plains of the clothing section. Two teenage boys, each wearing a pair of pants that could easily house at least two of them within the waistband and drooping down somewhere near their knees, are throwing a football across the jewelry section. Someone has crashed a cart into a display of Sam's Club soda, leaving a huge sugary, fizzing lake blocking off an entire thoroughfare.

I carefully pick my way back to the camouflage/sporting goods/gun section where I assume the key making machine is. After waiting in line behind one of the largest individuals I have met in real life, who purchased one of the largest knives I have ever seen (possibly as a dinner knife. This guy was huge.), I get to an associate who can make me a key.

Only Walmart is out of normal keys. All they have are their 'wacky' keys, which are keys that have been painted with some form of decoration that covers the entire length of the key. At this point my faith in Walmart breaks down. Because apparently Walmart's target market is the deeply ingrained southern redneck.

All available selections in their "Wacky Key" line:

• NASCAR keys, at least 5 unique kinds were available, each sporting a name and number of the particular racer of your choice. (Show your love for driving around in a circle - With a key!)
• America keys. These included the American flag (by itself), or American Flag with Bald Eagle head, or the Sept. 11 commemorative key with the American flag with that goddamn crying eagle on it. (Show your love for hilariously creepy over-the-top patriotic sentiment - With a key!)
• The Dale Earnheart commemorative key, special edition, done in (of course very tasteful) black with some sort of in memorandum message on it, I didn't get too close. (Honor the famous dead - With a key!)
• The camouflaged key, done in either your choice of brown or green foliage, for those times when your key needs to blend into the background before taking out a deer. (Kill woodland creatures - With a key!)

The only thing I can think of that they were missing were the Bud Light commemorative key designs, or perhaps one featuring women with very little clothes on.

In the end, I went with the green camouflage, so that the next time I drop my key into a pile of leaves, I will never ever find it. The trip back to the checkout was an adventure in itself, capped off by the fact that when I got through the line to leave, the cashier remarked "Wow, that is one awesome key! Where'd you get that?" I did not answer, in the hopes that she may one day figure it out for herself, considering SHE WAS RINGING IT UP RIGHT THEN IN HER OWN STORE.

My brain. It hurts.

Also, turns out I am an elitist prick. Who would have guessed?