Meijer and the vaccine perks

PANDEMIC UPDATE: 18May2021

the CDC announced that vaccinated folk can now publicly live mask-free. shockingly, Michigan's health advisers and governor agree.

of course, I head to Meijer--the superstore. 

honestly, I can't wait to experience the mask-less freedom and exhilaration of a clustered group of crazies customers under one massive warehouse-esque roof.

I step out of my car, soooo giddy(!). I sneer at the heretofore ever-present face mask folded in the cupmaskholder. we have waited for the Great Day of Normalcy, and it has arrived! 

big unmasked smile as I look to the west-side entrance/exit, half-expecting (hoping?) for a marching band, or an old-timey fire engine bell clanging the happy news, or maybe the Meijer Tzar, unmasked, personally greeting each customer, his pearly whites sparkling in the morning sunrise.

I squint at the entrance/exit sliding doors. my unhidden smile falters.

first one customer, then a couple more, exit the store... with masks ON!

like a Pavlovian trained mutt, mask-muscle-memory reaches for the double-layered face mask from its maskholder. my fingers expertly spread the mask loops wide to avoid bumping my AirPods and earrings, with a quick nose-pinch to seal the deal.

I quick-walk to the entrance, a flurry of toddler-tantrum reasoning rapid-fires through my brain, "but the CDC said... the governor said... everyone said..."

approaching the whooshing doors, I expected to see a big A-frame sign, or a large colorful placard that will release us from the past 14 months of masking, only to find this...

yeah. landscape oriented, 8.5"x11" sized, gray scale "color" piece of paper, taped to the very top corner of the doors--clearly Meijer is thrilled about the CDC's and MI de-masking policy. 

you know I've been dutifully playing by the rules, every rule(!) which suddenly, I realize, is exactly the point.

"the rules have changed," I mask mumble. 

I search for the best apropos hype song from one of my multiple playlists...

*dramatically yanks off mask* 

immediately followed by...

*obligatory juggle/ground scramble when my AirPods and earrings dislodge from dramatic yank*

my face flushed with obvious (and now visible) embarrassment, I collect my valuables, regain my dignity and stride through the airlock, bare-faced and resolute to enter the superstore--so ready for the welcoming "huzzahs!" of my fellow mask-freed humans(!)...

🦗🦗🦗

Still-Masked Greeter Lady nods her "Welcome to Meijer," with a lingering side-eye at my rebellious act of obeying the rules.

my eyes flit from one masked customer, and Meijer associate, to the next. 

seriously? am I the only fully-vaccinated-since-February Michigander that for months looked forward to actual perks of my Pfizer vaccines? I mean, besides the obvious perk of the "I'm Vaccinated" pin I used for my Insta story. #42views! #perks

my hand reached into my pocket, teasing the idea that I could just put my mask back on, blend in, give-in, give-up my new vaccinated perk...

a masked woman walking towards me literally stops in her tracks--clearly staring at my uncovered face. 

several knee-jerk reactions race through my mind: 

1. show her the pic of the tiny Meijer freedom sign, and my vaccine card?

2. fumble to replace mask... and possibly drop my AirPods for a second time? 

3. fight stance? (☜I'm gonna blame the Joan Jett hype song for that one)

I keep walking, ready for anything, when I watch her hand raise, as if in slo-mo, touch her mask, and then pull it off her face! correction, her angelic, beautifully smiling face!

of course I nod, and smile back, an electric human connection zaps between us as we pass each other. I glance away, and to my right I notice masked Hipster Dude taking in the scene. another de-masking, another amazing smile.

no, the entire store didn't unmask, join hands and sing the universal hymn of freedom... but I'm gonna add "the smiles of a stranger" as a definite, undeniable, vaccine perk.

Meijer and the fear of public vomiting

. . .

⬆︎ those are my pondering dots. 

you've read this post's title, so now the dilemma is-- how do I unpack that day of personal infamy? maybe I'll begin with a date stamp...

December 23rd, 2020

for the record, I had already made 3 Meijer visits over the previous 2 days, but still had to make another $186 trip to the superstore. #sonofanutcracker!

I finish loading my cart, thrilled to make my way through the holiday-busy, 6' socially distance store, when I realize that all the people/carts I'm trying to navigate around aren't just annoyingly browsing in the aisle's walking spaces--they are parked; as in, waiting in line for one of the four cashiers!

I make a u-turn from the ridiculously few "real" cashiers, and begin the daunting task of weaving through men's unmentionables, plus-size leggings, and holiday sweaters, towards the 12 items or less u-scan--all the while simultaneously reviewing my cart's contents; hoping beyond hope I can shed dead weight and turn my 12 x 12 items into... fewer than that. 

before I toss items willy-nilly from the cart, a hard reality check smashes into my dead weight fantasy. the u-scan line snakes through plus-size, active-wear and ends in SHOES!

another course correction. I've resigned myself to an actual cashier, I face the next insane line of people, it's worse than I originally thought. 

I give myself a quick mental pep-chat: I'm no Meijer noob, I'm a pro with 15+ years of experience. Meijer can't out think, or out creative me! (poor mind grammar, but sometimes that's how pep-chats go). 

I make a recon run, analyzing, running the numbers, Meijer sheep customer patterns... and that's when I found it-- the hidden short(ish) line in the over-priced candle and tissue paper aisle. I swoop in, ignoring the stares and jaw-droppers when they realize the massive coup d'etat I just pulled off. 💪🏼

the older hippie-guy in front of me turns to lean against the shelving, gives me a once-over with a "in-the-secret-aisle-know-nod" and proceeds to work on his phone's candy crush game... with the l o n g e s t (natural) yellow/grey fingernails I have ever seen on a man-human... at Meijer (I've lived in Taiwan).

not gonna lie, warning sirens nagged my mind. I ignored them, sure that getting out of Meijer was the ultimate goal. still... another quick scan of Mr. Nine Inch Nails (NIИ), revealed beard with food crumbs, unzipped jeans (👀!), Birkenstocks, and the same yellow/grey fingernail theme, but on TOES!

with sweaty palms, I wipe my clammy forehead, head spinning, my oversized Carhartt hoodie feels like an electric blanket powered by lava. 

an unhelpful image flashes through my mind: me sitting in a poorly-lit cement-floored basement, a loose circle with fellow therapy patients, as I recite: "hello, my name is tracinell, and I have an irrational fear of vomiting in public."

I shake my head, willing the premonition away, but that shake ripple-effects into a tsunami wave of nausea through my overheated system. I'd kill for a sip of water, or a cool breeze. 

refusing to be forced into therapy by Mr. NIИ--I resolve to leave the now claustrophobic-secret-aisle, and head for the 45 minute wait line, but with safety in numbers. just as my damp palms grab the cart handle, my sense of surgical-masked smell is sucker-punched by a horrific stench of body odor. I'm trapped! a mani/pedi phobia in front of me (with beard brunch and unzipped jeans), and an obese maker of stinky-human-cheese-in-the-folds-of-his-skin behind me!

my personal vomiting nightmare ramps up several notches to living HELL level; I white-knuckle death-grip the cart handle, clamping down the impending stomach heaves. I lean over, head between my arms, hoping there's a breeze below the waistline that hasn't been putrified yet, but not so low that gravity will just pull the vomit from my churning stomach.

full-on praying now, I glance to the left and stare at the wall of tissue paper. a glimmer of hope that if public vomiting is my destiny, at least there is something to soak-up the shame with. 

a warm breeze of putrid stinky body cheese wafts between the folds of my medically-enchanced-paper mask. my head swivels to the right, I blurry-vision, but somehow make out rows, and shelves, of hyper-fragranced candles.

in a flash, I am tearing off candle lids, mask-filter inhaling pumpkin nutmeg pie, candle fireside, lilac blossoms, sparkling cinnamon, frasier fir, banana walnut bread, creamy vanilla swirl... my face half an inch from candle wicks as I inhale-gulp.

the line moves; a classic good news/bad news scenario. I'm leaving the tunnel-like aisle, but still have the same human-ickiness in front and behind me. I avert my eyes from the troll toenails hanging over the birkenstocks, and grab the biggest "to-go" candle I can find; I position it directly under my masked-nose.

after a few deep vomit-taming breaths, I glance up to see frightened Mr. NIИ staring at me. he nudges his cart forward to a 6' 3" distance. with the candle pressed against my sickly-green face, I tempt fate and look behind me. Stinky Cheese Man pulls his cart back to a 6' 6" distance from me.

beyond grateful for my portable, waxed Christmas-Eve's-Eve miracle, I glance at the name of the candle, "Life's a Breeze."