Whenever I think about Saturday matinees when I was a little kid, I think of Viceroy Cigarettes.
After the movies where over, my brothers (who were in charge of me) and I would go across the street to the laundromat. I remember the laudromat as being all white and pink, but kind of grungey.
From there, my brothers would use the pay phone to call my mother to pick us up (it was pretty far away) It was always raining, because we were only allowed to go to the movies if it was raining (my father was big on making hay while the sun shone, or rather, pumping gas to fishing boats while the sun shone). Maybe that's why I like rainy days so much...heh.
Anyway, while we were waiting in the white and pink laundramat, with the gray cloudy sky outside, and wet lino inside, I would gravitate over to the old cigarette machine (it looked old even then) I would develop my OCD by pulling on all the knobs individually, and in a specific order.
I was absolutely enthralled by the Viceroy cigarette pack.
I would think about how sir walter raleigh wore that ruff around his neck, and in my mind that made him a viceroy. It was also because I knew that he laid his cloak out for some lady to walk on, so she wouldn't get muddy. I would then look out the window wondering what would happen if the viceroy put his cloak down in the gutter. I thought it would be really something else to step on his clock, but I could never figure out how to do that where my food wouldn't just push the cloak down and the water run over it and get my foot wet.
Some things are just meant to be mysteries.
