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Cart Bag Dark

August 6th, 2009

Cart Bag Dark

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Cart Bag Dark

Observations on Shopping

I decided to finally get an answer from the 'butcher' at the Walmart meat section.  I asked him why all the meat expires tomorrow or yesterday.  He gave me the standard Walmart answer, "Blah, Blah, Yak, Yak, Blah, Blah..." I stopped listening.  Instead, I studied his nostrils.  Both were fairly well populated with mucul debris. After he finished saying whatever it is he said, something about shelf life and blah, blah, I said, 'Yeah, okay,' and walked away.  I cannot eat meat that this man has touched.

The store was packed with shoppers.  In fact, I have never, not even on Christmas Eve (yes I was there) seen it this full of people.  I kept thinking it was like the sidewalks of New York City during rush hour.  Which, if you believe every film ever shot of those sidewalks, is pretty much all the time. It was crowded.

People were fairly decent about the lack of space available.  I don't generally look at any faces when I shop but in this case I was anxious to witness any hostility that might be in the air.  People were pretty decent.

I waited in line for a bit and looked around at all the people.  When I saw three young dark complected  men walking in my general direction I watched them.  They were happy and in a hurry and one of them had a platinum colored wig on his head and I wondered why.  It was a shoulder length wig and was bunched up like old ratty dreadlocks.   As they got closer, by this time with that look on their faces as I stared at them, like, wtf are you lookin' at fatty, I realized it was not a wig.  It was a winter hat with long furry ear flaps.  .  I smiled and lifted my chin at them like- it's just me- hip older woman with a double chin. They looked defensive at that point.  Will make an eye appointment next week

The check-out lane was okay.  Only one small incident when the older checker came to the handy, new, coffee-on-the-go cup with a nifty lid.  She held it up and looked as if she were terrified- as if she were maybe holding a ghost and screeched, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT THIS IS!!!"  I approached her slowly so as not to frighten her further.  Quietly and in my softest voice I said, "It's a .. cup."  I enunciated the word cup- so that she would understand and not be afraid.  She then indicated she did not know how to code it or something.. did not know how to type it in the register.  I told her it was okay.  Not to worry about it.  I told her I would not buy it after all.  She set it aside and exhaled. Relieved.  She then finished her job, putting 300 dollars worth of groceries in 800 plastic bags.  Some items got a separate bag with no other items.  I don't know why.  As I loaded them into my cart, I shoved the single bagged items into other bags that only had two items in them.  I still ended up with 600 bags.

After checking out I started my leaving-the-store routine, putting on gloves, finding keys and removing my giant sun glasses from my skull, where they hold my faux-baby-fine hair neatly off my face.  On this particular hair day, the entire head of hair fell forward into my face and flew around full of static and wildness.  The hair cascade stopped me, a little confused.  A stunningly beautiful woman was watching me at that exact moment and we both laughed out loud.  I  mumbled something about my hair being a mess.  We laughed again.

The parking lot was full of cars, stacked several deep with drivers and passengers hoping for a short walk into the hell of Walmart.

After I plunged my empty basket into the nearest snow drift I turned and stopped abruptly so as not to be run over by an over-sized SUV.  The driver was looking at me and shaking her head.  This enormous dark complected woman, whose lips were each as thick as a couple of Diamond Crown cigars took the time to stop her large vehicle and shake her gargantuan head at me.  I stood still and waited to see how long she would go on.  Finally, I laughed out loud and gave her a hearty and friendly wave.  She rolled her giant black-marble eyes and drove on.

I was glad to be back in my little smokey red truck headed home.

 

About the Author

Sometimes, it's just about the music.  Other times, music serves to complete  other pleasures.  Or vice versa.

I am fortunate to have available a few of the best writers on the subject of good music, good books and good movies.  It's a natural fit.

Critiques, reviews, interviews and  random commentary will be featured regularly.  Click on the Featured Columns page to enjoy voices from around the country speak to the simple pleasures. 



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