For Love and Cheez Balls

Yesterday I went to my local Market Basket in Chelsea. This is the most glorious grocery store I have ever been to. It is the largest grocery store in New England and seems every bit that large when you are inside. It is a thing to behold when you enter those automatic sliding doors. There is a cafe serving food and coffee to weary shoppers who have lost time in the windowless, clockless, flourescent lit warehouse. There are 50 registers, all open, with a line at every one. Now, I don't do so well in big crowds so I usually go shopping with Bill so we can keep each other on task and get in and out of there ASAP. Yesterday, however, Bill had other plans and we needed some groceries so I ventured out on my own. When I arrived the parking lot was very crowded, as usual, so I parked fairly far away and set out towards the front doors. There were people everywhere, moreso than usual. There were so many people there that there were no carts available. This seemed epic to me. A grocery store with no shopping carts available? How can that be? But alas it was so. So I went back outside and contemplated leaving when a man arrived with more carts freshly collected from the parking lot. I actually had to compete to get one as there were others waiting for more carts to arrive. This made me really want to leave but one thing kept me there: Cheez Balls. This is the only local store that sells the giant tub of Cheez Balls that Bill likes and it was his only request when I asked what he wanted at the store. So I staid my nerves and ventured forth toward produce. When I saw the crowd there I immediately retreated, skipped over the frozen foods and made a bee-line for the meat department. To hell with the list, I was running through this place as fast as I could--which was not so fast due to the sea of humanity swimming slowly through the aisles. One time I tried to back track--big mistake. I got about three quarters of the way through the store when I realized that I had not picked up the goddamned Cheez Balls. I tried to go back but I was like a salmon swimming up-stream so I abandoned my cart--a risky move in this crowd--and made my move back to the Chips and Snacks aisle. I dodged, I ducked, I spun and gradually I made my way to the sacred plastic bucket of cheesey snacks. I grabbed them, cursed my husband and made my way back to my cart which was, amazingly, still where I left it. I looked over at the deli counter and laughed at the thought before continuing on my mad grab. By the time I got to the dairy section my heart was pounding and I was sweating profusely, but I knew I was almost done so that got me through until I turned toward the check out. Oh mama. As tears welled up in my eyes I looked for a line that had a foreseeable end. Eventually I got through, made it back to the safety and seclusion of my car. I got home, unpacked the groceries and started baking--the best way to calm down. Later, when Bill came home I told him about my ordeal and what i went through all in the name of processed cheese snacks. He looked at me with sympathy in his eyes having seen me freak in crowds before and then he smiled and thanked me for the Cheez Balls.