My wife and I decided to venture out into the great abyss this morning. It was a tough decision. We had to leave the comfort and security of our home to go to “the over 60 only” time bloc at Stop and Shop. It wasn’t a decision we made lightly. But since we were running low on a few necessities we made the move. Wake up, throw some clothes on and out the door. I figured that it would be a quick in and out and then we would scurry home to our lair. Wrong! We pull into the parking lot and the place is packed. It’s like the early bird special at the 99 House. Every person over 60 from a 20 mile radius is jockeying for position in the parking lot. It’s dark and rainy this morning. Some of these elderly people have trouble parking their car correctly on a dry sunny day. Oi vey. My blood pressure is starting to rise and I haven’t even left the car. My wife finds a space far away from everyone because she needs to social distance her new car from some jerk who doesn’t know how to open a car door without smashing their door into her car.
I walk into the store, snap on a pair of surgical gloves as if I’m going to waltz into the operating room and perform open heart surgery, grab a cart and tentatively enter the store. I’m immediately greeted by a guy passing out packs of 12 rolls of toilet paper. Sure, let me have one please. The guy offers me two but I decline. Unlike the asshole dude in front of me that took six packs. Six packs? Seventy-two rolls of toilet paper? Their must be a lot of assholes in that family! We split up the list. Fruit, veggies, tea yogurt, and bread for me. My wife handles the deli counter. I try to social distance myself by trying to avoid people which proves to be absolutely impossible given the fact that the aisles are narrow and if someone dares to stop and ponder their purchase they create a choke point preventing people from passing. Sigh!
Their organic produce section is sparse on a good day and this is definitely not a good day. I do score some berries, but fail with the lettuce. Oh well, conventional romaine will have to do. The tea aisle is barren so I can take my time. Some English Breakfast and green tea. Perfect. I am trying to navigate through the store and remain a safe distance from everyone but this proves to be fruitless. People stop in the middle of the aisle to check their lists, stop to chat, or just have a senior moment! Really? Keep your freakin’ distance. What is it with these people? I detour down the greeting card aisle and gaze at the Get Well Soon section. Oh oh, not a whole lot of those cards left. Now it’s off to the bread section. Rows of empty shelves greet me. I find the last two loaves of seeded rye bread. I place one into my cart and contemplate getting the other one. That’s until some lady sidles up to me and starts pawing the other loaf. I quickly social distance my ass towards the yogurt. None of my favorite goat yogurt is left so I maneuver my way towards to deli counter. It’s like an obstacle course. People stopping, chatting, or just standing staring off into space. I finally find my wife waiting patiently at the deli counter. They finally call our number we get our Swiss cheese and sliced chicken and hightail it to the registers.
And here the fun begins. People banging their carts against one another while standing asshole to elbow. No social distancing here. I’m on the lookout for anyone who is coughing, sneezing, or wiping their noses. Thankfully all is quiet. We quickly check out and my wife realizes she lost her quadruple point gas coupon. Oh well, too bad, but we really don’t need a whole lot of gas because there is pretty much no where to go. Except for Stop and Shop. I snap off my gloves, load the car and we light out of there. Back to our lair to start our day of social isolation.
