Clean up on aisle 3

This evening, I had to go to the store to buy some stuff to make some things to take to this party that I have to go to tomorrow. After I finally made up my mind about what I wanted to make, I went to the check out line. Fortunately, the line was empty so I got to check right out. As I am waiting to pay, the cashier looks at me and asks "If you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?" At first I was disoriented: I have a long standing paranoia about being addressed in a public place and the current trend of ambush television has done nothing to soothe that fear. I suppose that moment of hesitation is what made the bagger repeat the question and add the qualifier "Money is the object." I took it in the sense that I am sure he meant. But then I had to think: Where would I go? Not wanting to disappoint (I remember well my years of torture in retail hell, and how sometimes something interesting would relieve, if only for a moment, some of the crushing misery that was inexorably grinding your spirit to dust), I asked "Does it have to be in the world?" since I thought that an extra-planetary destination might excite. They scoffingly asked "You want to go off the planet?" as if having a lust to wander was a fine thing... as long as it wasn't taken to extremes. So I had to refocus. What place would be exotic, but not unheard of; frivolous, yet still meaningful; unusual, but bizarre? Time was running out; someone had come to the line behind me and was already dumping their load of comestibles on the conveyor. I was tempted to say Morocco (since I do love me up some Moroccan style), but decided that I might be flagged as a potential terrorist and malcontent if I named an Arab nation. So I picked Tibet. Spiritual, but not religious. Plus, I love me up some Buddhist stuff, too. They both remarked over my answer: while I was unique in my destination, I was not in being asked. Then, knowing that part of the game is to question the questioner, I asked them where they would go. The cashier said she wanted to go to Ireland, although I would lick the Blarney stone to a nub if she had more than a couple drops of Irish blood in her. The boy stalked off, almost as if instead of answering my question, he would instead show me by immediately taking himself to his desired locale. The cashier yelled at him that he hadn't answered. He turned back, mumbling "I got called to the front" and prepared to stalk off again. That's when I noticed we were wearing the same belt (although I am sure that his was probably leather while you can be equally sure mine was not). Since I was all ready to depart anyway, I pushed my cart alongside him and asked again. He looked at me and said "I'd be at my girlfriend's house." Apparently, I had flirted with an underage bag boy and he did not like it. I smiled and replied "Aww, that's sweet." Inwardly, I thought Yeah, we'll see how much longer you keep that up.