Some trips to the grocery store are worse than others......

More times than not, I hate going to the grocery store. Maybe that's why I wait until 10 or 11 pm to go -- it's less crowded for sure, but since that's apparently when they stock the shelves, it turns into an obstacle course making my way around allllllll the boxes of stuff. I guess there's no good time to go. Even so, my last trip was memorable.

Sunday, J and I went to Michael's to pick up a print we'd had framed for A. We needed a couple of things and since there is an Albertson's right there we decided to run in and pick up what we needed. We made our way through the store (which felt dirty to me) and to the checkout. As usual, only a fraction of the gazillion registers were open, and the lines were l-o-n-g. We chose a line and started waiting our turn. That's when it started.

Ahead of us was a man who looked to be 40ish with his son (6 or 7 years old, maybe). To say this man was agitated would be an understatement. He was dripping sweat, his shirt was soaking wet (it was hot outside but the store was cool). He would tell his son to wait with the buggy and then he would go from line to line, looking down the lines to the checkers and then sigh loudly and wave his arms around. Finally, I guess he reached his limit and he started ranting to all of us near him.

He was saying things like: "Nobody knows how to work anymore. Look at those lazy fools (talking about the checkers at the registers) they should be strung up. All our jobs are being sent overseas and look where it's getting us. All we have left are dumbasses like these. People sending our jobs out of the country should be lined up and shot. They aren't Americans. They are ruining this country. They should be put on ships and drowned." His language devolved until he was liberally using words he felt the need to apologize for -- to the ladies standing within hearing distance. His son was busy trying to sneak candy into the basket from the shelves so conveniently placed, child-height, along the checkout line....which added to his father's consternation.

On and on he went. He had such a thick accent it was hard to understand him. I don't know exactly why, but we figured it was Pakistani. Finally, with tears running down his cheeks, he raised his hands and said (to one and all) that he had just managed to bring his family over and now....and NOW, the whole country was going to hell.

Thinking back, I guess he didn't alarm any of us because noone called security or felt the need to do anything. But, holy moly, I still don't know what to think about all that anger.

People are acting peculiarly. A Times-Picayune photographer lost it last week. The police pulled him over for erratic driving and he fell to his knees and begged them to kill him. Makes me wonder if they are spraying something in the air....