177: the lion king, also watering holes

Very few terrible things happen outside of grocery stores. This should be some kind of truth universally acknowledged. But to be clear: Everything bad in my life (including the death of the family dog) is probably linked to a grocery store, if did not in fact happen INSIDE a grocery store (Brother 1 running away and hiding in empty cardboard boxes, for instance. Remember that one, Mom? So much fun) Anyway.

Somehow, as God is my witness, grocery stores are disasters waiting to happen. Let's call it Watering Hole Syndrome. Everyone (except this one guy I know, apparently) goes to grocery stores, rich and poor alike. In more populous areas, the rich and poor can frequent different grocery stores and thus strengthen the dividing ditches. But in other places (here, for example) where there are really only two grocery stores (plus the co-op), rich and poor, dirty and clean, chained and free, all mingle in one messy human rat trap, jostling shoulders, exchanging communicable diseases. If you live here and you want to leave your work at the office, you should never go to grocery stores. You should plant a garden and raise your own food and never need anything like heavy whipping cream or cream of tartar or anything requiring you to go to a grocery store because a trip to the grocery store only ensures a continuation of the labor you thought you'd left behind at the office.

Grocery stores are fascinating places, like how the edges of cliffs are fascinating or state hospitals or roadkill or rainbows. I like grocery stores best when terrible things happen and I'm feverish or otherwise extremely ill.

Here's a story. It's not terrible. Just symptomatic of the Watering Hole.

I went to the grocery store. For reasons known only to someone else (not me), I went at 5 p.m.

5 p.m. is a magical time. It's the hour when everyone looks at each other, winks slyly, and says (in unison): "Hey, let's buy food." EVERYONE. AT THE SAME TIME. For real. This is why you never go to the grocery store at 5 p.m. It's generally accepted to be a Bad Idea. But I did. So be it. Also, there's this thing that happens sometimes when I'm in grocery stores. It's that I get really distracted and wander around and around and around the store, which was what I was doing when I turned down an aisle and heard:

Female voice: "WHAT? (expletive deleted) I didn't know you had a warrant out on you! (expletive deleted)"

Male voice: "I...(expletive deleted) When was this? (aside) I didn't know."

2nd Male voice (a little wearily, and trying to extricate himself from the conversation): "Now you know."

I came around the corner and a man and woman were furiously muttering at each other and moving away with a shopping cart and a second man was turning on his heel. I knew the second man. He works with parole. He saw me, smiled and gave a little wave.

"Do you ever get to leave your work?" I asked as I passed him clutching my laundry detergent like a Bible.

"Not really." And then, with a look of bemusement: "I have to find my cart. I'm not sure where it is. It's somewhere around here. I just had it."

On my way out, I narrowly avoided a slew of county employees and several secretaries from various agencies, plus a stream of petty criminals. Approaching the check out, I opted for the crazy-but-infinitely motherly cashier over the pretty young one who once sold me wine even though I didn't have my ID on me and she thought I was 17.