Excuse me, Please!

If you were expecting something exciting to happen this morning, rest assured it's safe to go back to sleep. Besides waking up before my alarm clock - which quite frankly is something that doesn't happen too often, bordering on never - there's not a whole heck of a lot to report.

Yesterday - as predicted - was extremely uneventful. Unless of course, one was to consider my run in with some moron in the grocery store, as I was rushing to get some last minutes stocking stuffer's and the ingredients for pumpkin pie. (The only true thing I can bake, and bake well.)

Grocery store etiquette has evidently taken a turn for the worse.

It used to be, that when you went shopping, you were considerate of others. Always taking care to make sure that you were neither (a) blocking the aisle (b) taking too long to select an item from the shelf (c) walking slower than a tortoise in the middle of July and (d) not using any more than 20 coupons per visit, on items that were actually in your cart. And who could forget bonus points for check writers who had their checks prewritten prior to reaching checkout ...

Now I don't normally care to shop on my lunch hour, since it takes me 15 minutes both ways to get from point A (Work) to point B (Store). With less than a half hour to shop, it takes both a plan and a good pair of running shoes to accomplish my list in record time.

But there's always someone.

Because there is never a time that you can go to a store, without running into that special someone who makes your whole shopping experience one long downward spiral into hell.

For me it was a grubby old man, in a red and black checkered hunting jacket, who with help from his equally annoying wife, managed to tie up at least 3 other people, aside from myself, by blocking all traffic through a major aisle.

Not one to be too shy when certain social situations call for action, I used my best polite, but firm voice to bring their lack of judgment to attention.

"Excuse me please," I said, gripping the handles of my cart as my foot tapped impatiently.

But my request garnered no response.

I tried again, this time a little louder, a little more insistent, "Excuse me please."

Once again, I was completely ignored. Be nice, be polite, maintain calm exterior, I whispered to myself, as I grew more and more annoyed with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. OK ... On the count of three ... One ... Two ...

"Excuse me," I said, this time much louder and dropping the please altogether as I moved my cart towards the direction I wanted to go.

It was at that exact moment that Hunting Jacket chose to acknowledge my presence. Giving me a don't bother me bitch look, he turned his body, catching his hand on my moving cart as I hustled by him.

A part of me wanted to feel bad when I heard him yell "Ow!". But just as I was turning around to offer a small smile of apology, Hunting Jacket began to howl a long list of adjectives in my direction. Any sympathy I might have felt went right out the window. And though I wanted to yell back a couple of rude comments of my own, I just kept going.

A very wise decision, since this time of year my bail money stash is at an all time low.

Until later.