Copyrights reserved by the author. If you are in doubt, please click on 'Copyrights' and read the details.The art of staying out of the way by J. G. Fabiano There is little difference between turning on a light in a dark room and the explosion of summer visitors to our friendly little hamlet of York, Maine. After a long, hard cold winter, and a spring that brought more rain then sunshine all of us ‘goat ropers’ are finally able to enjoy the warm sun of June. This sense of utopia doesn’t last too long because our population has a tendency to triple if not quadruple for the rest of the summer season. This is not a gradual increase because the quiet almost serene life style of the off-season changes into the tumultuous almost chaotic existence in a blink of an eye. I experienced this change by driving into my local Hannaford’s grocery store last Saturday and coming to the conclusion I had nowhere to park. After driving up and down the parking lot I discovered a spot that was closer to my house then it was to the store. I could not believe the number of people surrounding the store and I must admit I was more then a bit apprehensive of how many people I would find inside the store. My first quest was to find a shopping cart in which I could place the things I needed to buy. During most of the year this was very easy; all I had to do was go to the cart corral and pick out either a large or small shopping cart. On this particular day the cart corral was totally empty. In fact, looking around the parking lot I did not see a single cart that was not in use. Then a few yards ahead of me I noticed a woman placing the last of her groceries into the back of her car. I started to move toward her car in the hopes I would save her some time by taking her cart instead of having her place it in the corral but then I noticed another rather portly woman making her move to the car with probably the same thought in mind. I started to walk a bit faster hoping I would get there first but the other woman had the same idea and I must admit I have never seen a woman of her size move as fast as she did. I found myself evolving into a trot and then an actual run trying to get there faster then my opponent. Needless to say I lost with both women looking at me as though I needed some immediate psychological help. Walking toward the store I was lucky enough to find a cart that was thrown into some bushes by people who did not want to be bothered by the concept of a shopping cart corral. At that point I was thrilled there were rude people in this world, took the cart and attempted to enter the store. I felt like a salmon trying to swim upstream. As soon as I entered the store I was convinced that everyone leaving the store with their carts filled with colorful boxes and containers of things I had no idea as to what they were, had fixed their sites on my empty cart and me. After attempting to navigate myself around the swarms of people leaving the store I thought it best to retreat to the outside and try again another time. Looking behind me I noticed there were more people attempting to enter the store then there were trying to leave the store. At that point I knew I was in a point of no return for it would be as hard to retreat then it would be to attack. After feeling as though I was in a bumper-car ride at an amusement park I finally was able to bounce my way inside the store and into the produce area of the store. I was traumatized by the fact there seemed to be more people in the store then lived in off-season York but, I had a job to do and I assumed that since I lived here all year long and knew where everything was I would have the upper hand over the visitors of my home. Once again I was wrong. I quickly came to the conclusion I was in the midst of shopping professionals. One of the items I had to purchase was a box of strawberries. I knew where they were and pushed my cart through the traffic of many other carts only to be shocked by the fact the strawberries were not where they were supposed to be. Could it be that the people of my favorite store moved things around so as to give our visitors a better chance in the battle of choice? In the corner of my eye I noticed some clear plastic boxes filled with my favorite fruit. I worked my way through the maze of shopping carts and almost made it to my quest when all of a sudden I noticed a trio of shopping carts heading toward where I wanted to be. They were manned, or I should say ‘womanned’ by three elderly women whose grayish blue hair made the fluorescent lights of the store glare into my eyes to the point I was forced to squint. Because of my loss of vision I crashed into a display of canning jars that brought my cart to a complete stop which made the handle of my cart jab into the part of my chest that brought any chance of breathing to an immediate halt. After catching my breath I came to the conclusion that no strawberry was worth the pain. I then simply went into the flow of carts that now surrounded me. I found myself being swept through the bakery and then into the delicatessen area that had more people surrounding it then product they sold in their case. For a second I had the thought I could possibly pick up some sandwich meat but was discouraged by the fact I had just grabbed a number that was in the mid-90’s while the sign over the deli had barely reached 25. Once again I threw my shopping cart into the flow and off into the store I was carried. I found myself traveling down aisles I have never visited before. My next stop was in front of the summer beach-toy section that had been placed in the middle of the store. The beach pails and water toys were placed high over the heads of the shoppers who were forced to stop the flow and pick through the colorful items that would become an integral part of their summer vacations. This was the best shot I had to purchase something but I could not get myself to come home and show my wife that I just came back from the store and purchased a water pistol that guaranteed to annoy the hell out of anyone in its general vicinity. Again the flow of carts started and I was thrown through the beverage section and then into the pet section, which for the first time I noticed it had more varieties then most of the other food stuffs in the store. I then felt like I was part of a large train of car stopping every now and then in order to allow the participants to touch and maybe even buy something they needed. Off into the junk food aisle I rode quickly being swept through areas filled with potato chips and nuts, which promised a lower amount of carbohydrates in every bite. I laughed at myself in the knowledge this particular product was made entirely of carbohydrates that promised a lowered amount of what they were. My only thought was that the chips must be smaller. I quickly pushed through the laundry section and then into the frozen food area I attempted to open one of the large glass doors that kept the food, either frozen or cold. I did manage to open the door that protected the butter from melting. For a few microseconds I thought I might actually buy something I needed when I heard a large crash and had some severe pain, as the opened glass door decided to become part of the right side of my rib cage. Looking through the surprisingly intact glass door I observed a rather large man the size of a very large tree give me a look that had me imagine the concept of picking up a few necessary teeth, if I didn’t close the door fast so the journey through the grocery store could continue. Needless to say there was no butter for me. Off into the pharmacy and beer area I was thrown hoping that any stall in my trek would allow me to discover a new form of toothpaste or beer. I did discover that there were many more brands of low-carbohydrate beer then I ever knew existed. Knowing that beer was produced from grains I wondered how this could be but if the label said it was low carb, we as a society, were always told it had to be true. I was finally whipped out of line by the sharp left turn that led to the checkout counters. I never appreciated the concept of centripetal acceleration before this experience because I haven’t felt such force since I was a little kid being whipped around in a circle by a long line of friends. To my shock I found myself outside the store holding onto an empty shopping cart and before I had a chance to understand what had just happened a young woman asked if I was finished with my cart. I don’t think I had the chance to answer because within a blink of an eye I was standing outside the store with no shopping cart in hand. There is little difference between turning on a light in a dark room and the explosion of summer visitors to our friendly little hamlet of York, Maine. Sometimes I wish I could simply shut off the switch but if this was possible I believe our summer experience would become a bit more boring. THE END
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