It is Saturday night, October 4th, 2003. The time is approximately 9:30 pm and I am standing in the magazine aisle of a local convenience store. The busy store is located in Pensacola, Florida on Pine Forest Road, just adjacent to Interstate 10, approximately 7 miles from the Alabama state line. The store looks like it has been recently remodeled with fresh white paint, bright red ceramic tile on one wall, and cursive neon red and green signs located all along the white drop in ceiling. The floors are covered in shiny white and green tile, which is occasionally covered here and there with abandoned receipts, clumps of red clay (probably from construction worker boots), straw rappers and drops of syrup coming from the soda fountain. There is a distinct smell of coffee brewing and hot dogs on the grill. The atmosphere is like a beehive. People are buzzing all over the store as the sounds of country music come from a radio located on the red sales counter. Customers dash in the door to the cooler, trying to locate their favorite cold beverage, as others stand in line to purchase gasoline, cigarettes, food items and beer. There is a single line to the cash register, and almost all in line, regardless of background or culture, seem to be sharing in an ongoing conversation about the Florida State Lottery with an estimated jackpot of 12 million dollars. There is an entrance of several cars worth of people, apparently from Alabama, trying to purchase lottery tickets before the deadline. Suddenly all those wanting to purchase lottery tickets are in a hurry, as the deadline for purchasing a lottery ticket is 9:40 pm. The regular, non-lottery customers, start to look worried and frustrated about getting out of the store and on with their lives.
Those standing in the line seem to come from different backgrounds. Truck drivers, office workers, mechanics, salesmen, children, and the local homeless.
