I just got home from the grocery store and I have to say….it was a very civil experience. I wasn’t expecting that. I was expecting to be cursing and crying and desperately howling at the Gods to deliver me from the madness! I thought I would be walking into a dystopian landscape of sirens and smoke and empty, blood-smeared shelves and SWAT Teams patrolling the hazy aisles. I imagined traumatized families huddled in corners defending the last can of Ravioli with limp English Cucumbers and 4-day-old raisin scones*.
To be honest, I was a little disappointed in The Viking for letting me walk into such a horrific situation on my own. Given what I was expecting I thought I was being brave as hell for suggesting that I should leave the safety of our house to find food. Surely he wouldn’t let me face the apocalypse alone. He’s a damned Viking! Born and bred through 1200 years of natural selection in preparation for Ragnarök which, can be argued, has maybe just arrived.
But that’s exactly what he did – despite watching hundreds of videos online of people almost eating each other to get their hands on the last roll of toilet paper! Maybe he thought I was just Bad Ass enough to handle it on my own but how he could arrive at that conclusion is a little baffling given that he won’t let me have a Flame Thrower for “safety reasons” but if ever I needed a Flame Thrower it would definitely be right now.
I lingered at the door for a moment. “Okay…..well…..I’m leaving now.” He waved a distracted hand at me without turning from the computer screen. He was probably watching one of those bloody videos!
“Alone.”
“Uh huh.”
“Who knows what I’ll find out there.”
“Yup.”
“So……I don’t know if I’ll make it home……”
“Take your time.”
“No matter what happens……I’ll always love you.” Heavy sigh.
“Okay.” Waves again.
So, fine! I went alone. I thought the parking lot would be chaos, with cars idling willy-nilly, doors open, crying infants in car seats. Horns honking and fists waving. Maybe a handgun or a machete. But, nope! There was even a Handicap space for me! Once inside, everything was business as usual!
There wasn’t a single white/red potato anywhere though – lucky I like Yams. Plenty of bottled sparkling water – I can let the Brita gather dust for a while longer. Meat department was well stocked – thank Gawd! I thought I might have to look at a legume.
There were tons of eggs. The fridge display was full of dairy. Of course, there was no toilet paper, but I’ve got enough for quite a while anyway.
There was one anomaly though – Men. And there were two distinct groups of men.
- Young-ish men who have been in training for the past decade for the imminent Zombie Apocalypse. These guys were mostly alone so I can only guess that they were sent by their wives/girlfriends for a fun couple of hours of zombie-killing-adventure in which they would find, retrieve and bring home food.
- Old-ish men who accompanied every middle-aged/elderly woman, except me of course. Apparently, I wasn’t alone in my expectations of mayhem. I’m pretty sure all these women were expecting to need some muscle for elbowing their way through a press of sweaty, angry people who may or may not want to rip your arm off for the last can of evaporated milk because the local news has been televising shocking videos.
I’m not sure how much help these old guys were going to provide because they certainly weren’t Vikings.** At least I didn’t think they were Vikings, they definitely weren’t very impressive, but who knows? Maybe they were all old, retired Vikings hoping to intimidate with glares and gnarly teeth rather than resorting to throwing axes. And it was very obvious that not a single one of them were in the store by choice.
On a side note: My Ex was a perfectly healthy, robust male in his early 30s with lots of energy and stamina……until we walked into a store……any store that didn’t involve aircraft and all related items. As soon as we walked in, his arches suddenly collapsed, and his back started to spasm and he felt nauseous and light-headed and thought he might faint at any moment. He got heart palpitations and clawed at his shirt while he hyperventilated. Pink Eye developed in both eyes. Simultaneously. He broke out in Hives and a fever. He kept asking fellow shoppers if they smelled burnt toast and if that was a sign of an imminent stroke? He clung to the side of the cart with white knuckles like he was about to fall off the 18th floor of Airplanes ‘R’ Us, forming the words ‘Help Me!’ to every other man he saw, extending a blistered arm in supplication for rescue. The longer I took to acquire the things I needed, the closer he got to death.
I mention this now because many, many of the men in Safeway were exhibiting some of the same ailments the Ex complained about. One even brought his own Oxygen tank!
Anyhoo, my point here is that people are a little jittery. Uncertain. Well, not The Viking, obviously, because he’ll send me out to face the hounds of hell on my own, but most people in the grocery store opted to face the suspected challenges in pairs, probably believing that two would stand a better chance of scoring a can of corn than one.
Of course, it was completely unnecessary as it turned out because everyone was wonderful and kind and thoughtful. There wasn’t a single example of wrestling and cursing in either the parking lot or store. I was kind of proud of my fellow Calgarians. We seem to be at our best when the times are the worst.
And even though The Viking’s presence wasn’t technically needed, he didn’t know that for sure when I was leaving the house. For all he knew, I could be walking into the Zombie Apocalypse without a Flame Thrower. So……huge disappointment…………..and he may have to answer some hard questions when he shows up at the gates of Valhalla because I am totally telling on him.
*the only thing left in the bakery department because raisins are an under-appreciated food
**Unlike my husband who couldn’t be bothered to show up for Ragnarök, sending his wife instead which, I believe, is a serious violation of some kind of Valhalla Code or something isn’t it?
