I Am Scared, But in a Confused Way.
Today is the last day of school for Shane, at least for awhile.
It’s the last of a lot of things, I think, at least for awhile. I mean, heck, they shut down Disney World.
The governor has declared that there be no gatherings of groups of 250 or more – which means our plans for the weekend no longer exist. The concert Dylan was attending is postponed. The show we were all attending is also postponed.
Activity centers are closed, so my dad won’t have his senior sports activities anymore. All recreation centers are closing, in fact, as are libraries, sports events, theme parks and indoor swimming pools.
Restaurants are staying open, but I can’t imagine how they will fare. As one accustomed to frequenting movies, restaurants and parks, I see only parks in my immediate future.
I wasn’t sure what to do when I realized we’d be hunkering down for a month or so. But in spite of my general food hoarding tendencies, I knew I could use some more eggs and milk.
So I went to Costco last night, not in an urgent-despair mode, but just because I wanted a handful of things. And I got some of them. Pasta, however, was no longer on the shelves. And where was the sliced cheddar? No whitefish salad, either.
A lot of things were no longer on the shelves. In fact, Costco was a madhouse. My mom and I were just trying to make a quick trip, and it became an unforgettable adventure.
The lines for the cashiers started at the front of the store and went down the center aisle, three deep, all the way to the back wall. On the far side of the store, another two lines snaked to the back wall.
The back wall is about a mile from the cashiers.
The aisles were blocked by abandoned grocery carts, reminiscent of an apocalyptic horror movie. Because of the masses of people in line with their loaded carts, it was tough to navigate the store. We squeezed through the people, browsed one aisle, then squeezed back out the way we came to go to the next aisle.
We tried to find pasta but the pasta was gone. As is the case with stores everywhere, the toilet paper and bottled water was gone. Odd foods were gone, like bagels and cakes. Bananas and bread were gone – except Cinnamon Raisin. There was a whole bunch of Cinnamon Raisin bread. Costco should probably stop selling that.
Costco sells more food and drinks than anywhere I’ve ever seen – but the shelves were virtually bare. Empty boxes were strewn about; there were empty wooden crates and platforms in every aisle. And there was an air of desperation. No one smiled.
But I wasn’t feeling desperate. I felt more … intrigued. I am scared, but in a confused way.
It feels like I am preparing for a tsunami to hit – but living 500 miles away from the shore. I know that serious – even catastrophic – trouble is ahead, but I don’t know exactly how it’s going to affect my family.
So I bought my nitrate-free Canadian bacon, red pepper hummus and two-percent milk. When I got home, I ordered a ridiculous amount of cereal online, and another month’s worth of dog food. And then I sat back to wait, along with everyone else, for that tsunami.