An Encounter at the Fruit Market

I was waiting in line at the checkout stand at the fruit market yesterday when a woman in her mid-forties came up behind me. The way our market works is this: if you have a cart, you push it behind the counter where the cashier stands and he or she unloads it from there. I just had a basket, but the lady behind me had a cart, which she pushed right up next to the cashier as if it were her turn. When the cashier finished with the couple in front of me, she reached over to start unloading this lady's cart; it was, after all, right next to her. Before I had a chance to say anything the woman behind me said, "This girl's next" and pointed to me. "Oh," the cashier said, puzzled, and reached for my basket. "Isn't the sunshine so nice?" she asked as she weighed my produce. I had barely opened my mouth to answer when I heard the woman behind me say, "Tell me about it! It's gorgeous!" It was then that I noticed that the woman was not standing the considerate grocery-store-etiquette distance behind me--she was right next to me. As in, how closely the couple in front of me had been standing. And they had been holding hands.

I took a step to my right. The cashier reached for my bag--a Sounders tote that I take everywhere in the hope that someone will strike up a soccer conversation with me--and said, "Cool bag!" "Thanks!" I answered. "Did you hear about the four-match pack?" she asked. (The team is running a discount on tickets for four home games against all our biggest rivals.) "Yeah," I answered, "I'll think about it if we start winning some." "Oh my gosh," came a voice from beside me. "I know." I turned to my left to see that the woman had inched even closer to me. And, I thought, quickly scanning her appearance, no way in hell has she ever even seen a soccer game.

I took another step to my right, which I realized as soon as it happened that I was just extended another invitation to snuggle. I came to see moments later when I handed the cashier my debit card that I had another problem: my new best friend was standing directly in front of the PIN pad. "Um," I started, "excuse me?" I tried to sneak my way past her, but the lady did not budge. She didn't even acknowledge that she was in my way, or really that I was even present in the transaction at all. By the time the cashier handed me my receipt, I had been elbowed a good three feet from one end of the counter to the other. "Thanks," I mumbled, making sure to make eye contact with only the cashier. I grabbed my bag and walked off to my car, utterly perplexed.