Groceries of Impending Doom

WeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeee was a sound I was not accustomed to hearing at Wal-Mart. I tried denial. I continued pushing my cart through the soup aisle, answering Smoochie’s barrage of questions, telling myself in my head that I was just hearing one of the lift thingies the employees are always joy riding around on. WeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeee came again. Yes, it’s a lift thing. It’s not a tornado siren. Take a deep breath. It’s a lift thing it’s a lift thing it’s a lift thing. Grab your soup, answer your son, he’s talking to you.

To reinforce the fact that denial was completely not working on my inner psyche, the announcement came reverberating over the blaring horns making themselves apparent. “Can we have your attention please. There has been a code black issued, and at this time we need all cashiers and shoppers to proceed to the center of the store. I repeat, code black, please go immediately to the center of the store.”

At that point I’m pretty sure I had to squash the urge to run and flail yelling “We’re going to die!!! It’s useless to fight it! The ceiling is going to blow off the building and we’re going to get pummeled to death by florescent light bulb glass bits!! Prepare for your death people!” I squashed it, but just barely, by reminding myself I had a 6 year old and a 5 month old and I had to keep it together just long enough to throw myself on top of the two of them if the need should arise.

I reassured Smooch that it was just a bad storm (I could see the panic rising in his eyes) and put on a calm exterior for his sake. We found our way to the center of the store and I attempted to squeeze us next to a wall of men’s jeans, because, well, if we have to get pelted by blowing debris, men’s jeans are preferable to 50 pound sacks of dog kibble. In my book, anyway. It’s kind of funny, really, the things that go through your head when you’re facing certain death.

I have to step forward here and tell you that one of my greatest fears is tornadoes. It can thunderstorm until the cows come home, or in my area of the country till the corn drowns, and I’m fine. But the second the word tornado comes into the warning system, my lungs start seizing and pushing my heart up out of my chest into my eyeballs. If I have a nightmare, 9 times out of 10 it involves a tornado chasing me. We HAD to have a basement for the tornado refuge- I never wanted to be stuck in a ranch home with no basement again. I could go on and on here, but I’ll just sum it all up in one sentence. I would rather face down a giant uber hungry python than live through a tornado.

My thoughts included the irony that I was actually going to die at Wal-Mart. I hate Wal-Mart, but not for any political reasons. They’re always out of something I need (like iceberg lettuce for Pete’s sake), and they have their aisles so crowded, two carts can’t fit down them at the same time. Whenever possible I shop elsewhere, but they do have the cheapest diapers in town and we’re now a one income family, so I bit the bullet and headed to the big W. And now I was going to die there. Doom and Damnation, Death Death Death.

I can’t believe I was able to think all of these things while reassuring Smooch. I hid the fact that I was shaking with a pasty white knuckled death grip on the shopping cart, and the other set of knuckles made busywork of rubbing Smoochie’s back. Then, much to my relief, the all clear came over the speakers and instantaneously we were meandering our way back to the veggies for our final few purchases.

We ran into Smoochie’s old daycare teacher and her oldest daughter (who is such a cutie I’m hoping Smooch eventually takes her to prom or homecoming or something but that’s another story for another time) and I remember trying to sound more chipper than I was and saying something about being able to think of better times to shop. I think I got 2 or 3 more items in my cart before the whole ordeal began again. Sirens, the code black announcement, the whole shebang.

This time I was an old hat at the process. We wound our way back to the men’s jeans, this time for the comfort of familiarity and because If I was going to die, at least I’d be next to something manly. If I couldn’t be next to MY man, just the thought of a man would do in a pinch. This time the store was mostly empty because there was a mass exit after the first all clear. A nice lady stood next to us talking, and explained she picked us because she saw I had two kids and she could offer help if the need arose. After the second all-clear when we finally paid and made a run for the safety of command central (my minivan), I had a few other offers for help as well.

Once I got home, the kids safely inside the house, and dodged the lightning bolts to get the groceries inside, I was able to relax. And I realized that there are truly nice people in this world. People nice enough to offer assistance in the face of “certain death”.