Sundays: When All I Really Wanted To Do Was Do Nothing...

Ah, Sunday - day of rest, day of church, day of football. I've lived by two rules pertaining to what I consider a relaxing Sunday:

1. Never run errands or go shopping for supplies on Sunday.
2. Follow Rule Number 1.

Gee, guess what rules I broke today?

Realizing that I wouldn't be able to live off of Diet Coke and Sun-Chips all week (but I did once back in college), I got my ass off the couch and hit the road to the local Costco, which I believe is Navajo for "Land of the 5 Gallon Mayonnaise."

You see, the reason why I hate shopping on Sundays is because EVERYONE shops on Sundays. I blame this on the theory of relative behavior: People tend to spend Saturdays out and about, and naturally, putting off shopping until the very last second. With this similar mentality of procrastination, we converge at Costco all at the same time. God help you if you grab the last copy of Grey's Anatomy Season 1 and someone else wants it too. Seriously, it's like "Lord of the Flies" out there.

Parking is always the first challenge - everyone wants to park close, and no one likes to park far. Cars literally stalk shoppers like prey - pouncing on a potential parking spot the first chance they get. Turn signals are used, but some people steal other people's spots anyway. This usually causes some sort of Jerry Springer-ish behavior from the drivers involved in the argument over a spot, but luckily, I avoided this by parking only slightly farther away from the store.

Shopping carts are always scarce, so I usually just pick one up from the Cart Return area. Again, not a lot of people do this, so they wait at the front of the store until one of the workers brings back a whole ton of carts from the parking lot. Then it's like a whole feeding frenzy as people elbow each other for their own carts, hopefully one with wheels that work and don't squeak. Yeah, a little planning goes a long way.

Navigating the store is a lot like navigating rush hour traffic - there are lanes that move well, and then there are those shoppers that just stop in the middle of an aisle, and drift off somewhere as if they're cart ran out of gas. I just wish people could apply their driving skills to their cart pushing skills, but I believe some people really do drive like they push their carts, and that makes me worried and sad.

After getting the essentials I need - basically, Diet Coke, Sun Chips, and some deli meat (I got other stuff too), I proceed to checkout, which is an entirely different zoo-like setting all together. For some strange reason, the people in the checkout lines at Costco start behaving like Lemmings - usually people will stick to a lane unless someone else points out a lane that is not so busy. I wanted to move to an emptier lane, but the lady in front of me wouldn't budge, and I was nudged between the Snickers Bars and the Assorted Nuts section. Then, when I had the chance to move out, a worker passes by and says "Hey, you can also use this lane." Gee, you think?

Now, Lemmings or not, I think people are afraid of switching lanes because they believe they'll be saddled with the one that looks short, but ends up being the line that takes the longest - bad signs, such as old people pulling out checkbooks, or people with a fist-full of double coupons in their posession, become valid concerns. In fact, the lane that I was in before had all of these, so I was sad for the unsuspecting people behind me that did not see this.

As I am putting my items on the conveyer, the couple behind me are ramming my cart forward, as if they're kinetic energy could move my actions and their exit out of this madhouse faster. One nudge, I could take, but they almost rear-ended my ass with another push, their faces unapologetic - then they looked at me as if I just told them to go f--k themselves. Go figure.

Now, when it comes to checkout clerks, I usually encounter two kinds: Either they are the "how are you doing?" kind where they strictly look at their monitors and scan your items with laser-guided missile proficiency, or they are the "Chatty Cathy's" that tend to make an effort of connecting with you as if our exchange was akin to a round of Speed Dating.

Of course, guess which one I got?

The checkout person and her partner were both cute women, but the checkout girl was talking to me as if she was trying to make a love connection. Frankly, any other day I would have indulged her, but with the impatient couple uncomfortably next to me and giving me the worst Evil Eye I've had in 3 months, I was a little off my game. Her equally cute partner noticed that I also picked up the new John Mayer CD and started giving me her "Rolling Stone critique" of it. Again, any other day, I would have indulged her too, but was glad that she didn't comment on any of my other purchases, like my wart cream.

Yes, I'm kidding about the wart cream.

And finally, making my final approach out of the store, you usually have to pass through these people that look at your receipt to make sure that what you bought matches the amount of items in your cart. As always, there are two kinds of workers that do this: There's the kind that takes it seriously enough to glance at the items and move you along, and then there's the kind that look at your receipt and count EVERY SINGLE ITEM in your cart as if you were going through the Customs Inspection at the U.S./Mexico Border.

Is it even worth guessing which one I got?

Just because I got distracted for a brief second, I got stuck with Mrs. I.N.S. who was checking my cart as if I was packing explosives or something. She looks at my receipt not, once, but TWICE, and then carefully scans through my cart. I watch people in the lane next to me cruise on by, one guy even gave me a look that said "Tough luck bro, I feel for ya." I gave him the "Thanks Bro" nod back, and after an excrutiating 3 minutes later, I was finally out of there.

If you made it to the end of this tirade, I thank you kindly. I know, I could be trying to write something more prolific, but hey, sometimes you just gotta vent, and that's what makes America, great.

Super Winks!... ;)