Saturday, July 23, 2016

Meijer and the supersized glimpses

there's this place in Arizona called, "The Grand Canyon." ever heard of it? ;) it's on my list of places to see before I die. (speaking of dying... we've become so close over the years, consider yourself invited to my funeral--at some unknown future date. it should be a doozy. see, before marriage, my initials were T.N.T. when I die I have given strict instructions that I am to be cremated, packed into fireworks and blown into the night sky as a fiery-glittering blossom so that once more I can be TNT.)

but I digress. 

I am told that The Grand Canyon is so awesome, so massive, soooo.... well, grand, that photographs cannot possibly do it justice--one must experience the absolute enormity of it allI just hope and pray it lives up to its hype, because it sounds a lot like an experience I had recently; inside a Meijer, one of the newly completed supersized superstores...

once again, I was in an unfamiliar portion of Michigan when I saw the familiar blue and red, lower-case Helvetica Meijer signage. I recall thinking, "I could really use a couple cans of mandarin oranges and a USB cable." naturally, I pulled over.

little did I know how deeply I would be affected by the supersized glimpses I experienced that day: 

1. even the airlock is supersized. seriously, this thing is so long it could double as NASA's rocket exhaust plume tunnel. and I'm 99.9% sure, when my Old Meijer becomes fully supersized, this particular change will cause an Elderly Uprising. see, at Old Meijer, the airlocks on the west and east ends functioned as the Elderly's Tinder app. no joke, digits were exchanged and love connections made as the Men Elderly sat on the bench and reviewed Lady Elderly as they came in (swipe left) and then followed them out (swipe right) to the SMART bus home. not at New Meijer; the new airlock's only function is to house the carts, no benches. this is not even remotely conducive to the indelicate art of hooking up. 

2. there are soooo many more items. at first this sounds great--variety! woohoo! until you realize that all this variety is getting in the way of your settled, expected familiar. I found myself jaw-dropped staring at a wall(!) of Snapea Crisps; did you know there are 4 flavors?! not to mention they make Lentil Bean (2 flavors) and Black Bean (2 flavors) and all sorts of differing bag sizes! Snack size, family size, 20 oz size, bulk size... 

not until that moment did I give a second thought of pureed, baked veggies; but there I am, light-headed with crisps possibilities-- no, stymied by multi-flavored visions of posh parties with bowls of caesar flavored crisps, wasabi-ranch late-night snacking and harried morning lightly-salted lunch bag options. my lifelong dreams of dashing in and out of Meijer shattered around me... they also have like 8 different types of dustpans to sweep up all the shattered-ness.

3. vast: an immense spaceyou feel the aloneness in each department in the supersized Meijer. no more kibitzing about avocados, or sharing a tender language-barrier moment over enemas. *more's the pity sigh* someone who is impatient with humanity, such as myself, should be fine with the quiet zen-esque moments, but it occurred to me that a large portion of my observing the ridiculous relies on... people, specifically Meijer crazies. when your closest grocery comrade/crazy is several dozen feet away, it's impossible to overhear engage in witty Captain Kangaroo references about green beans and Mr. Green Jeans. even the staff was few and far between; pretty sure produce guy was also staffing the coveted lobster tank death lottery. #surfandturf

I shuffled over to the u-scan to check-out, bummed to my core by the glimpses into my Old Meijer's supersized future, when a Southern inspirational thought popped into my head...

They say beauty is only skin deep, while ugly is to the bone.
When beauty finally fades away, ugly holds it's own.

let's hope and pray this silver-lining holds true for grocery stores.