This afternoon, after a quick trip to the mall for toothpaste, I went to the local grocery, the place with good, fleh items, like deli meats and cheese, but more expensive everyday items like cereal and bread. I didn’t really have anything I needed to buy, I just ended up in the wrong lane leaving the mall and it being very rainy and dark today, I wasn’t keen to argue with traffic. (On my way TO the mall I passed an accident scene. A semi truck was pulled over to the side of the road with two police cars. The car it had struck was on its side, on the grass on the far side of the sidewalk, with no clear front or back anymore.)
The superstar-bestest-ever part of going to this grocery store is the parking lot. Maybe that’s true of all grocery stores – now that I think of it, superstore’s lot is pretty crazytaxi, too. But this one is underground, with, like, 8 levels and 10 signs that say “exit” but they lie, I know they lie because one time I was stuck there for four hours just driving around in circles. It’s better to go out the way you came. It’s safer. Plus, it’s all two way and the curves are really tight and no one can ever manage to stay on his/her own side of the line and I am forever terrified of a head on collision with some fucking pimpmobile SUV, which would make me all justified in my anger n shit but would still probably hurt a whole lot. DoublePlus, the ground is coated in some weirdy-pants substance that makes everyone’s car sound like they’re burning rubber when really they’re going so slowly they’re in first gear trying not to stall. Well, OK, I am. Everyone else is probably listening to their iPods, thinking about hockey.
There is a sizable dent in the right hand side of my car because of two separate incidents where I(and someone I love) took a corner too tightly and hit one of the many pillers holding up the parking lot. It’s kind of like loving the sinner but hating the sin, me and those pillers. ANYway.
I drive in, all fogged up from the rain & cold and on my way to the part of the lot I like to park in, I happen to stop at the stop sign. A man with the right of way zooms past me, squealing his tires (even though I know it’s not his fault, it still annoys me), heading up to the parking lot closest to the store. This is silly, because everyone knows there’s never any parking in that section, plus there’s always people up there in their cars, waiting for parking to be available. I’ve witnessed three accidents in the upper lot. Besides, we’re inside! Who cares how far you are from the door? Maybe he’s buying lots of things. There’s always more parking/less idling cars in the second closest lot, which is where I’m going, if the goddamn cars ever stop zooming past me. I hate being stuck at a stop sign. But I am, so I wait. Eventually, I cross the little intersection and park.
I am walking the 2 minute walk to the store and buddy zooms by me, going the other direction now. Guess there was no parking up in the closest lot. Ha ha. I feel I have now risen above him in my own self-estimation. (I automatically assume strangers are cooler than me. Ongoing issue.) I go in the store and head for the meat. I decide I want stir fry for dinner. I decide I want pork. I pick up some pork. I turn to leave and there he is, buddy tall guy in his red jacket. I think: he’d be cute if he wasn’t so tense and so inferior to me. He stands, blocking the isle, looking wildly around as though he has forgotten why he’s there. Maybe he forgot in the time it took him to settle for a second tier parking spot.
I pick up some pasta because it’s on sale. I get distracted in the Burt’s Bees section. I like their products but DAMN it is hard to rationalize spending $20 on moisturizer.
I move to the till. Buddy is at the till I usually go to, about to pay cash. I purposefully go to the other till, to prove my superiority, but then the checkout chippie at my till has a crisis of faith so I go to buddy’s till, just as he is leaving.
As I take my pork, pasta and change, I notice a bag sitting on the little shelf below the cash desk. It contains what has got to be 10 pounds of ground beef.
I say, “someone left their 10 pounds of ground beef.”
My checkout chippie says, “Oh it was that guy in front of you!”
I say, “The guy with the red jacket?”
She says, “Yes! oh what can I do, I can’t leave my desk!”
I say, “If I see him in the parking lot I’ll let him know it’s here. He’ll be back.”
After all, he only bought one thing. I’d notice if I got to my car and had no bag but less money – what am I doing? Where am I?
So I leave, expecting to see him running back, smacking himself in the head for being so forgetful and granting me a wry smile acknowledging his idiocy. But I don’t see him.
When I get closer to my car, I see him. Poor buddy had to park right across from me in the lot – such an insult to him! He is in his car and has started it already. He has a black lab in the passenger seat. It is cute – no qualifications, dogs are cute. I wave at him and he gives me a look that I can’t even begin to interpret in words. Suffice to say, it isn’t a wry smile acknowledging his idiocy.
He rolls down his window. A little. Like they say to if you’re in a dark alley and some guy with a knife approaches.
I say, “I think you left your meat in the store.”
He says, “Thanks,” hardly seems surprised at all, pulls back into the parking spot & runs back to the store.
I get in my car and drive home. I feel like I have won something, I guess because he was in such a crap-my-pants hurry but I still got out first. Ha ha superha. Enjoy your seven years of hamburgers.