The past few times I've been to the Shave the Sack something noteworthy has happened.
The time before last I was in queue behind an older man that smelled something fierce. His skin was dark from tan and a whole lot of dirt. He smelled like disease, like an old unwashed dog. The smell had about a 10' radius. Because I was sweating, everyone looked at me (or so I think) like I was the odoriferous one.
The most recent trip has been the most amusing. In line behind a European couple, a man and lady whose nipples stood out like ice picks; two other girls, one of whom was Australian. None of these four people had a Maika'i card (a discount card for groceries) when the cashier asked if they had one. I offered mine and she used it for each person's purchase. They each said thanks with a chuckle. When it came time for the Australian lady to pay her total was $12.01 but she couldn't find the necessary penny. I fished one out of my pocket and gave it to the cashier with a giggle from the lady. Then the Australian said "Thanks, you should come home with me."