A lady sitting there smiled deeply at me, eating a bagel she and a friend had brought themselves because the store didn't have any gluten free. This way they could still hang out with their friends who could eat the bagels that were actually from Blazing Bagels. Two fire chiefs came in, followed by three municipal landscapers. The lady told one of the latter that he "smelled like hash" so he backed away and stood slightly behind the other two. That warming, small town feel was only just beginning. The next task was finding a grocery store.
The first place I found said "Grocery" on the outside, but only sold flowers and a few items in glass fridges. Walking further, I spied boxes of fruit outside and found a tiny market. I don't know what it was called or if there was a sign, but outside someone had thoughtfully placed a token umbrella for customers to stand under and then dash out of again to get the fruit that sat poignantly in the rain.
Wafting through the doorway was the voice of Rod Stewart singing, "What a Wonderful World". And there he was, on a big flatscreen just above the tomatoes, crooning to vegetables and fruits crammed all over the place. There was a huge saltwater aquarium behind the front counter, maintained immaculately. There was a flat of mushrooms balancing on a box like an afterthought by my knees, priced and unpriced fruit crammed everywhere. For the bit of space to fit through it all, the word "aisle" could not have aptly been used. No style of stroller would have made it through. A sign plastered in a luxurious little space between fruit cartons read "If you are grumpy, irritable, or in any way grouchy you will be charged an extra $20 for the hassle of having to deal with you". I moved along, as if floating, charmed as the music continued "I see trees of green...red roses too, I see em bloom...for me and for you". In "slow mo" I made it to the counter, where my children were grinning with lollipops in their hands that the store lady had given them.
Wafting through the doorway was the voice of Rod Stewart singing, "What a Wonderful World". And there he was, on a big flatscreen just above the tomatoes, crooning to vegetables and fruits crammed all over the place. There was a huge saltwater aquarium behind the front counter, maintained immaculately. There was a flat of mushrooms balancing on a box like an afterthought by my knees, priced and unpriced fruit crammed everywhere. For the bit of space to fit through it all, the word "aisle" could not have aptly been used. No style of stroller would have made it through. A sign plastered in a luxurious little space between fruit cartons read "If you are grumpy, irritable, or in any way grouchy you will be charged an extra $20 for the hassle of having to deal with you". I moved along, as if floating, charmed as the music continued "I see trees of green...red roses too, I see em bloom...for me and for you". In "slow mo" I made it to the counter, where my children were grinning with lollipops in their hands that the store lady had given them.
There were a couple of people in line behind me as I came face to face with a woman with super frizzy hair. It was thinner in some places and it seemed to part itself all the way down the back of her head. She told me what cute children I had in a raspy, unique kind of voice. I figured she had the most fascinating voice of anyone I had ever met.
It was at this point that my 5 year old hauled out a baggie with a hairy caterpillar in it to show her. Rather than just smile and keep the line of customers moving, she stopped. Taking it carefully like a rare prize, she slowly said, "Wow!" Then she took it and showed it to her husband who was behind the counter too. As she was handing it back to my son, I remarked wryly that the caterpillar could probably use some air. (After all, he'd been cooped up in a resealable plastic bag.) The lady froze with the caterpillar, then rummaged around with her other hand to find a pair of sharp little manicure scissors. Before she could cut some holes too, I offered to do the deed. I felt the need of the people behind me, all watching the whole scenario most patiently.
It was at this point that my 5 year old hauled out a baggie with a hairy caterpillar in it to show her. Rather than just smile and keep the line of customers moving, she stopped. Taking it carefully like a rare prize, she slowly said, "Wow!" Then she took it and showed it to her husband who was behind the counter too. As she was handing it back to my son, I remarked wryly that the caterpillar could probably use some air. (After all, he'd been cooped up in a resealable plastic bag.) The lady froze with the caterpillar, then rummaged around with her other hand to find a pair of sharp little manicure scissors. Before she could cut some holes too, I offered to do the deed. I felt the need of the people behind me, all watching the whole scenario most patiently.
Just then, the worker who was about to bag the produce asked if we had plastic. I was confused. "no, we didn't bring any bags," I said. Then the frizzly one looked arrestingly at my spouse. She croaked matter-of-factly, "I have bad news for you. We don't take plastic. No, only cash or cheques. The old way, it works." We nodded solemnly. We had to. There was no room for disagreement in that moment. Thankfully, he had tucked a few cheques in his wallet.
The woman asked where we were staying, and was delighted to know that we were at the Pacific Inn. "Oh, my daughter got married there," she said. "It has the right...vibe." Indeed, she was fully into vibes - she had a very romantic produce store. She explained all about her saltwater tank that needed upkeep twice a day. "How did you hear about us?" she gushed. Her market was noteworthy, I thought. She had managed to cram her surreal store into the expanse of a bedroom complete with a sound system, large flatscreen TV, gorgeous aquarium, and piles of semi-organized produce. Where else could one get lost in the atmosphere and unwind while shopping for produce? At what grocer could one anticipate a one-of-a-kind experience at the checkout or hear such a unique voice?
The woman asked where we were staying, and was delighted to know that we were at the Pacific Inn. "Oh, my daughter got married there," she said. "It has the right...vibe." Indeed, she was fully into vibes - she had a very romantic produce store. She explained all about her saltwater tank that needed upkeep twice a day. "How did you hear about us?" she gushed. Her market was noteworthy, I thought. She had managed to cram her surreal store into the expanse of a bedroom complete with a sound system, large flatscreen TV, gorgeous aquarium, and piles of semi-organized produce. Where else could one get lost in the atmosphere and unwind while shopping for produce? At what grocer could one anticipate a one-of-a-kind experience at the checkout or hear such a unique voice?
And then we were done and walking away, out of that very small space where the normal constraints of time had faded. A place where all that mattered were the people, the vibe, kindness, and some fruit.
