For K

(So, "K" thought this blog was a good idea, but wanted more on my Wal-Mart experience. So, For "K")

I ride the bus to Wal-Mart. Let's begin there. A woman with a "Honk if you're horny" button sits across from me. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to honk as she's sitting across from me. Nor do I think honking on public transportation is appropriate. I couldn't possibly honk on public transportation. I always have mass guilt about honking at public transportation. This is like honking at a "special" bus to me. I've been on the bus when someone's honking at us. "Jackass", I always think. We are a group of people. If we got off this bus, we'd kill you. Especially the woman with the button. She looks as if she's ready to go at anytime. So my dilemma is finally quelled by the fact that I remember that I'm not horny. This blend of Supercenter anticipation and the smell of the crazy-eyed man in the desert camoflauge jacket behind me, puts on lid on any need to express myself sexually. There's nothing sexy about being on the bus.

After I arrive, past the packed McDonald's, ( Something's wrong about blending fast food with auto parts, silk flowers and women's sweat pants.), I have to strategize. I have an hour before I have to be back on the bus. I'm immediately overwhelmed, however, and begin planning two hours. There's furniture, slip covers, photos, electronics, a brush with the garden center...I can't even venture into the soaps, candles, lotions and shaving products...I'm no fool. I know my limitations. Two hours is not enough time to decide between the SPFs in face moisturizer.

In front of the electronics section there's a bin marked, "Two DVD's for $11". A group of sarangetti scavengers surround this waterhole of abysmal movies. I do not lie when I say a rather large woman is physically in the bin. Her feet off the ground she drinks deep from the well of movies like the classic "My Sister's Keeper" or the beloved "Houseparty III". She cradles the movies like a small child while a small child runs in circles around the bin.

Don't even ask about the Video Games...I don't even attempt that aisle. I was actually pushed by a large blond woman while looking at the audio recording devices. It was either her or me and I stepped back to let her get to that impulse buy. "How many of these people are recording their thoughts?" I wonder. Then I remember seeing many of these devices on "Judge Judy". "Can I play something for you, Judge Judy?" Usually the tapes are full of drunk, cussing loved ones saying that they hoped the accused/accusor died. This is where it starts. Maybe Linda Tripp made this very journey before meeting Monica at that food court? Perhaps she hatched her plan between scarfing a Quarter Pounder and finding a floral print swag for her dining room bay window?

I live in the mountains of North Carolina and a Wal-Mart Supercenter seems to be like a beacon that lights up every hillbilly door from here to Tennessee. They pour into the store with every conceivable facial contortion that makes me mock "Nell" with Jodie Foster more than ever. These people are part of civilization while "Nell" who was sequestered high on a mountain without human contact had beautiful straight white teeth? Who does she think she's fooling? Jodie! Not a lot of research on that role, huh? Come to the Wal-Mart. Darwin's iguanas have nothing on these people.

There is a mother and daughter drinking gas station tubs of soda who I watch throw away their cups and go right into the McDonald's and get two more. As I watch them I see the daughter hit the mother in the face.

There's a man with a shotgun marching to the gun department. I'm thinking return? I want to follow him, but think better of it. I hear no shots, so I suppose the customer service was up to par.

There is a rat faced boy with his face pressed up to a flat screened t.v. playing Barbershop II.

I hit my hour and a half mark and start to hyperventalate. Where is the exit???!!! I check out with Lisa who looks all of a haggard 16. Her world weariness makes me feel sprightly in comparison. Dark circles around her eyes and I think I see crows feet! She is none too pleased that my bag of disposable razors won't scan and instead of punching in the sku number she grows increasingly violent. I watch "Good News" on the package over and over again until finally a miraculous beep occurs...five times. This sends Lisa spiralling into disgust and she cuts her eyes at me as if I have some sort of demonic control over her scanner.

Finally, bag of shame...happy face on my bag...I go out into the packed parking lot.