What's the Buzz?

Have you ever spent any time in a foreign country? You might observe the natives closely, even speak their language fairly fluently, and yet - while doing something you think is fairly innocuous, like walking down the sidewalk, say - you suddenly realize that the locals are eyeing you like you just shot up out of an ant hill wearing a bumblebee costume with the mask on backwards.

This is what happens to me each and every time I go to Trader Joe's. Now, come on...shopping at Trader Joe's? That's something I know how to do. It's the same freaking store I shopped at in San Francisco! That should be a no-brainer. I swear, I don't do anything strange. I park the car, get a cart, and walk up and down the aisles like everyone else. 90% of the stuff I buy is exactly what I bought in California. And yet, when I arrive at the register, without fail, the cashier's eyes bug right out of his or her head. I reach up to readjust my bumblebee mask, but find nothing askew.

"Wow!" they exclaim, almost breathless with shock. "You really got a lot of stuff! I mean...wow!" Now, granted, I'm shopping for a family of four. Am I the only one in Chicago who buys a week's worth of groceries at the same time? I blink, taken aback, and look again at the shopping cart. Sure, I have a few extra things, but people: it is the Friday night of Labor Day weekend! We're having friends over tomorrow night for a barbeque - aren't many of us buying a few extra things?

So I look around. What I discover is that no, no one else actually is shopping here for their family of four. It turns out that in this city where Trader Joe's is a relatively new phenomenon (there are only two in the entire city), this is actually where people go to pick up their chips and salsa, cheap beer, and a bag of those yummy honey pretzels. It still seems odd to me - you can get almost everything you want here, and the prices are great - but it hasn't caught on yet the way it has in San Francisco.

But let me tell you, the scene my shopping cart causes? It's a stir. A splash. I automatically start bagging my groceries as I always do, and a guy comes running out of nowhere to help. "Whoa!!" he hollers, as excited and eager as he would be if someone had just farted real loud in the dorm. "You really went for it! I better give you a hand!" "Yeah, you read my mind!", exclaims the cashier, much relieved for the extra assistance. When the manager calls the bagger away from my side, the guy asks - literally in a panic - "But who's going to help her out to her car with all this??" Huh? Help me out? Once I finally tear myself free of their incredulity and make it outside to heroically unload my shopping cart solo, I breathe a sigh of relief.

As I load up my car, I take a look at this apparently outrageous load of groceries. Folks, I had FIVE bags of groceries and a small box with 4 bottles of wine in it. I have posted a photo of it to show you, because I know that no one will believe how unimpressive these groceries are unless you can see them for yourself. Not a soul at Trader Joe's in San Francisco would have looked twice at this amount of food, let alone commented on it. But here I just hold my breath and dive back into my ant hill, wondering when this bumblebee will get things buzzing again.