Emergency Situation

People. We have an emergency on our hands. Let’s all forget about war and famine and Tom Cruise for a minute. Because there is one real issue that needs addressing.

Today I had a craving for a shaved ice (aka snow cone) and could not find a store ANYWHERE that sold them. (And by ANYWHERE I mean THE THREE PLACES I LOOKED) Where have all the shaved ices gone? And why didn’t I stock my freezer with them before they melted away?

The reason I was craving a shaved ice today was because I was at a swimming pool. My cousin had swim lessons and I had flashbacks to my many summers spent teaching swim lessons. When I flashback to those summers I don’t think of the crying kids or the permanent chlorine smell in my hair or even the fact that my tan would get so dark every year that I was often mistaken for a member of a different race.

No, what I remember is the countless shaved ices we ate. I can still almost taste the cool, flaky ice and liquid sugar that was poured upon it. Ahhhh. And I can still picture the nice old man who set up his little snow cone machine right outside our gate, luring us over with promises of sugar rushes and brain freezes.

Now that I’m older I wonder two things about my daily shaved ice addiction:

1) I don’t know that sitting in the sun all day and then making ice and grenadine your sole source of nutrition would be highly recommended by many health professionals as a wise medical choice.

2) And I wonder about how much money Mr. Snow Cone man was pulling in. The profit margin on that operation had to be enormous. It’s just ice. In a little paper cup. And it’s a cup that isn’t so much a cup as it is a kinda stiff napkin that disintegrates as the ice melts. Those can’t be that expensive. And at $1.50 a pop I’m thinking Mr. Snow Cone was sitting on at least $1.00 profit on each cone. And man could that fella turn out some cones in a hurry.

But apparently despite the obvious profit-margin the shaved ice business took a noticeable hit when I stopped working at the pool. Without my continued support of the industry it seems to have collapsed, leaving no surviving shaved ice stores. I’m so upset I could weep.

It’s summer. My cousin’s hair smells like chlorine. And I got a tan just watching her swim. But if I can’t ruin a white shirt by dropping crushed ice and syrup down the front of it then why even bother with the season at all?