Grocery Shopping As A Spectator Sport

When did grocery stores require referees and protective gear? Who needs NASCAR or boxing front row seats when you can just visit the local market for angry crowds, contenders and dangerous drivers (both in the store and in the parking lot)?



The battle begins before you even get out of your car. Parking lots, grrr! It never fails, some vehicle will come flying down the lane and nearly run you over (all the while that driver is talking on his or her cell phone) then take that last spot on the row that should have been yours. I give up trying to obtain a close spot. I park as far away as I can now. The race to the top space just isn't worth if I have to wait for Granny to pull out her Buick or if Aggressive Annie is going to rev up her engine and claim it as her place at the last minute.

Although I admit it, I find it tempting to pull a stunt like Kathy Bates did in one of my favorite movies, Fried Green Tomatoes. I can see why she snapped the way she did in this scene:



Come'on that was funny stuff! However, it's not humorous to watch grown ups behave like unruly animals. In almost every trip to the market, I witness one adult trying to move ahead of another adult while walking down an aisle. And when I say "move ahead," I really mean to forcefully shove that cart (a cart full of baked beans, ham and Summer's Eve) so that grandma or little Suzy cannot pass.

What is the hurry? Will those ten seconds really make a difference in your shopping experience? Why is it necessary to push aside other shoppers so that you can grab that taco sauce? From what I see, there are plenty of jars left. The store is well-stocked. Also, I'm not aware of grocery markets giving away prizes for the first person to reach the checkout line. So, what gives?

Fighting to the front line is just not my style. I am NOT, and I repeat NOT a Black Friday shopper on the day after Thanksgiving. In fact, last year I went bowling on that Friday after Turkey Day. To me, bullying through crowds to save an additional 10-30% is not worth the bruises and frustration. I would much rather be home, asleep in my pajamas or drinking a beer while getting a strike, as I did last year at 9:30 a.m.

You often see rude and poor behaviors of America's finest in grocery stores. At least I do where I dwell. On Saturday, I saw a couple arguing in the store over what could have been tonight's dinner. Then sadly they were again flustered in the parking lot, the male pointing and whining at the female while unloading groceries into the car. I sure hope that lady burns her man's dinner and throws it in his face and lap from how I saw him speak to her. I watched a petite mother bag and unload all her groceries while her overgrown teenage daughter talked excessively on her cell phone without lifting a finger to help her. (Note to self: my daughter will be respectful and courteous to me while we shop together. If I catch her on a cell phone when I clearly need help, that cell phone will no longer be available to her).

Here's another thing I hate about grocery stores. I'll be walking through the bread section and suddenly get a whiff of corn, sweat and something else unidentifiable. It never fails, I always walk into an area where someone has just let out a big, stinkin' fart!

The passing of bodily fluids in itself doesn't bother me. I mean, I understand that everyone does it from time to time. But to be happily picking out a brand of English muffins or french bread, only to have the wonderful bakery scent replaced by a stranger's ass. Not pleasant! Then you run down the aisle to get away from it. In fact, you jog three aisles over to the toothpaste area but the smell just thickens and becomes worse. You keep walking into it, no matter where you turn. There is no escaping it all the way to the checkout counter.

As you attempt to run from the dreadful scent, you accidently knock over a display table full of seasonal items. Thank goodness nothing was breakable. As you're bending over to pick up the items, your child is having a tantrum inside the cart and you realize that you've just flashed three people with your underwear. (Not that it's ever happened to me or anything, I'm just sayin'.)

So what can you do to pysche yourself up for the inevitable trip to the market? I mean, your family has to eat, right? How do you prevent yourself from joining the wrestling match among the other hungry savages?

Here's what I do. I allow myself extra time and try not to be in a hurry. I bring snacks for my daughter (and sometimes me too) so that she is not ripping her teeth into a peach and splashing its juices down her shirt (yes, that's happened before). I try to be a courteous cart driver. I stick to my side and allow for fair passing. I make my list and try damn hard to only buy items from my list. I look both ways then look again (and again) for crazy people in those dangerous parking lots. I take my family with me for protection and for educational purposes. Plus, the people watching is definite entertainment. And finally, I try to make it fun.

You're thinking.... fun, how is that possible? Well, on the rare occasions when I find an aisle all to myself, I then proceed to act like a complete crazy person. I run down the lane with my cart. Sometimes I jump in the cart. I talk to the fruits and meals in my cart or on the aisle, telling them how I can't wait to eat them. I dance around and sing (again, this is if no one is looking. Of course, some one will inevitably find you though). I try to reinact a movie scene I love. And well, just use your imagination for what else I might do.

My friends are just like me too. In fact, (we'll just call them the wacky J-Twins), J and J will often place socks or beer holders on their hands and talk to them like puppets as they browse. What?? They have great imagination, what can I say?

See, shopping can be fun. You just have to put a little bit of personality into the sport. Now, don't you wish you could go to the grocery store with me?