For most, shopping is a pretty calm experience.
Get some groceries.
Coffee.
Chat up the counter person etc.
For me, its a safari.
Thats right.
Life on the urban Serengeti.
As soon as I pull up to the curb, I'm looking for the most efficient way to the front door and make my move.
If your walking too slow, I will breathe down your neck if you don't get immediately off my line.
Use up the entire sidewalk will get you a fucking elbow to the kidney's.
Begging for change?
All you will get from me is a job application hanging from the public bulletin board.
Just getting to the door requires a certain finesse.
Or in my case, a lack of it….
I can see it ahead and I know Im almost in.
Almost.
Standing right in the entry, next to the baskets, are always some herd of sheep.
Sipping their lattes, talking about the beer they just bought and how great the sex was with some random stranger.
These are the ones I like best.
I aim right for them.
They see me coming but freeze.
Unsure of the carnage thats about to unfold.
The sheep are caught in the headlights of certain destruction.
Beer his the ground with a crash.
Bottles roll across the floor like fallen bowling pins.
Lattes go flying.
Organic tofu decorates them like christmas trees.
The air has been forced from their lungs by a strategically placed shoulder to the gut.
I need my basket.
Just as I get free, I see mom.
On the phone with her kid in one of those stupid shopping carts shaped like a race car.
She's just yapping away, right where I'm building momentum.
Junior goes for a ride.
Sorry kid.
First stop, vegetable isle.
I mean really, what in the hell does someone need to inspect every goddamn nectarine for?
Grab it and go already!
Fortunately for them, I'm not in nectarine mode today.
Im into grapefruit which are suspiciously left to their own most of the time as if to say
" yeah, we are all awesome, no need to squeeze us all until we turn into a container of pulp " .
The carrots though, what's with that.
It must be their brilliant orange color.
I dive for the display.
Conversations interrupted.
Disgust.
Mayhem.
Text messaging gone horribly wrong.
I beat my way through the rest of the veggies giving everyone a good whack with my basket.
The canned food isles are an interesting observation in human behavior.
Leave that fucking shopping cart in the middle of my aisle, its going to disappear.
I love it when couples stand exactly one foot away from the shelves.
Discussing.
Contemplating.
Pickled beets or fancy?
Small olives or extra jumbo?
Plain or spicy okra?
WHAM!
Basket to the back of the knees.
Headbutt to the spine.
Oops.
Im after the butternut squash and palm hearts.
Bulk items.
This should be really easy to figure out.
You have a bin 'o' stuff with a big scoop.
Or even better, the overhead gravity feed dispensers.
I see the hippie guy trying to meter the sunflower seeds from the overheads.
This almost makes me sad.
These things are only like $1 a pound and this guy is worried about a few too many .
Really?
I grab the lever.
Immediately the bag fills with seeds.
Now it's mine.
I leave him trembling with empty hands and a beard full of twist-ties.
Meat department.
If I had it my way the meat department would still be alive.
You get your choice of bow and arrow, or a knife.
Ted Nugent style.
Rock and roll game hunt.
There would be huge tanks for the fish and you would have to go in and get one.
Try going after a 150 lb. Tuna sometime with nothing but a plastic spark.
Awesome!
Instead I have to settle for the all important " who's next " call.
Umm…….
That would be me so fuck you for not paying attention.
What the hell is with the nit-picking the weight of your purchase by 1/10 of a pound.
Unbelievable considering your driving a $50k eco wagon.
Not me.
Load it up chief.
Give me a couple whole chickens, a handful of sausages and load up on the ground stuff too.
2 lbs. over?
Wrap it up!
I leave the meat counter in shambles.
There is ground beef in chunks on the floor, chicken wings adorn the victims like cheap jewelry.
People holding their steaks to their blackened eyes.
Bacon strips dangle off peoples heads like meaty dreadlocks.
The broken bottles of BBQ sauce just add to the effect.
My basket is now a recycled plastic battering ram.
The unsuspecting are getting clipped one by one on my way to the checkout line.
Smashed bags of potato chips.
Crushed containers of milk.
Eggs from the breakfast that will never be, litter the floor.
I finally make it to the cashier.
My basket gets its contents dumped onto the conveyor belt.
I have no patience when it comes to the " unloading the basket " part.
I just want to get the hell out of here.
There is one person you cant assault at the store though.
The cashier.
They have immunity.
They have all the power.
My expedition could be completely blown right here.
Im looked at with suspicion.
Force a smile.
They strike up a conversation.
Not to be friendly, but to assess the damage report coming over the two-way.
Am I the one?
In that moment, its they who decide how your evening is going to turn out.
You could be on your way in less than 2 minutes.
Or an hour.
I go into Chatty Cathy mode.
Pull the Jedi mind trick to try and disguise the carnage behind me.
Got to get going before the victims start to make their way to the front.
Im done if the cashier gets even a glimpse of one.
Chat mode works and I get the green light and the all important receipt.
Stragglers coming.
Pointing with shaking fingers covered in various food groups and sauces.
Grab the bag and bail.
Thin Lizzy's " Jailbreak " playing on my mental sound system.
I nail the guy counting his bottles on the way out just for good measure.
Can't get hung up 6 ft. from the exit.
Sidewalk dead ahead.
Bank left.
Like a bank heist.
Just walk normal.
No running.
That would give me away.
I weave and dodge the pedestrians.
Stealth mode.
Truck 30 ft. and closing in.
Almost there.
One last obstacle.
The guy playing his guitar for beer.
He is sitting on the ground with his dog.
I strategically place the bag at head level.
Speed up my pace.
I feint to the left, dodging an imaginary bicyclist.
He never sees it coming.
Lassie gets a pass, not her fault she's got a lazy owner.
Key ready.
Straight shot to the getaway vehicle.
Toss my goods into the passenger seat, dive behind the wheel and off I go.
Success!
I will have to choose my locations carefully so not to be recognized too easily.
Rotate.
Disguise.
Blend in.
Stay on the move for a good 15 minutes despite the fact that I live 5 blocks away.
I have a system…
If you live within a 5 mile radius of my shopping grounds, it may be wise to invest in a helmet and maybe some shin guards.
You'll never know where I will show up next....