Sunday, July 18, 2010

Fifty-Third Day

I look to my left and turn the handle. The door pops open and I slowly get out. Walking through the parking lot on that dark Summer night, I could physically feel the invisible heat passing my face with each step. I walk alone towards the building, noticing that the large "W" on the side seems to be a bit brighter than the rest of the letters. Not knowing how to handle the situation, I carefully pull out a shopping cart from the lineup and begin my quest. I think to myself how could a place like this be this crowded this late at night? Kids were running everywhere as parents tried to get a hold of them. Toys were strewn on the floor, their packages half-opened and items missing. It wasn't a few steps away until I was brought to a halt by a woman in a nursing outfit bringing a half-gallon bottle of milk up to the check out counter. I politely say, "excuse me" and adjust my path to avoid running into her. She smiles and gives an approving nod. Barely making my way through the crowd, I notice the magazine stand that holds all the unnecessary periodicals of the week. Preparing for what I was about to purchase, I reach out for the latest issue of People Magazine and place it in the top part of the shopping cart where children are supposed to sit. I pull back and twist my way towards the main path. I was here for a specific reason; something that has been on my mind for months now. Still a little insecure, I casually turn into the correct aisle. I try to draw as little attention to myself as possible by keeping quiet and pretending to fit in. Spotting what I wanted, I reach my hand out to grab the second one in line; a little superstition of mine. I place my item under the magazine and turn around to face the front of the store. Step by step, I'm lightly sweating underneath my baseball cap. I take a minute to remove my cap and wipe my forehead with the side of my right sleeve. I get to the self-checkout line. Empty. Perfect. Push start. Scan item. Place in bag. Insert cash. Remove change. Place item in cart. I leave the People Magazine in the cart as it only served as a cover up of my real reason for being there. I take the bag out and return the cart to the excessively long line of unused shopping carts. The lady at the front of the store witnessed me pay for my item in line, so she throws me a grin and waves me across. Once outside the store, I felt accomplished. It was like unwrapping the golden ticket and running home to fully witness all the power it held. Trying not to get overly excited and cause a scene in the parking lot, I slow my pace down just a notch. A quick brisk walk to the car and I'm in. Not even a blip on the radar. Completely unnoticed. Perfect. Keys in the ignition. Turn and go. Another day. Another job well done.