They're Coming To Take Me Away
I can't take it any more! The carts! The horror of the shopping carts! How can it be possible that people who will drive five miles farther to a cheaper gas station and walk an entire mall for an afternoon of shopping cannot be bothered to put their damn shopping carts in the little corral meant just for such a purpose?
I know, I know. There's a lot of things to really get up in arms about. The price of gas. Our troops in Iraq. Mel Gibson's anti-semitic slurs. [On the plus side: Tom Cruise has been dumped by Paramount Studios. I can't tell you what a gleeful smile that brings to my face!] But it seems to me that the whole shopping cart thing is reflective of our culture as a whole.
Gone seem to be the days when America was a "young", "brash" country full of cowboys and frontiersman. Gone are the times when we were known for hard work and the amazing power of overcoming obstacles, both man- and nature- made. Instead, we are now thought of as an overweight, litigious (did I spell that right? I'd look it up, but I'm too lazy) and spoiled society. A reputation we have earned. Goodness, I'm not wearing the same size that I did when I was 19, but I'm not suing McDonald's because they didn't staple my damned mouth shut when I hit the drive-thru. But at least I'm grown up enough to stock my vegetable drawer (okay, so it's stocked with Milky Ways, but it's still a stocked veggie drawer), drink water and exercise every frickin' morning. And don't think I don't bitch about it the whole time, too.
But, come on, people. Shopping carts!!!! You know why there's no cart return racks in the front quarter of the parking lot? Cuz management mistakenly thinks the store is close enough to walk the carts back. Allow me to snort as I laugh.
The other day, I was sitting in the parking lot of Stop & Shop in Narragansett, Rhode Island, waiting for Matt to return with plastic bags for dog walking and - more importantly - white chocolate Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. As I looked around, singing absentmindedly to "Barney: Live", I noticed an older gentleman parked a few cars up, facing me. He put the bags from the cart into his trunk, pushed the cart to the front edge of his parking spot, looked at me directly in the eye as if to say "What 'cha gonna do about it? Can't you see the 'VETERAN' plates on my car, girlie girl?" and drove off. Now, allow me to mention that the cart return was one - that's right, folks - ONE space away.
Even better, last week I went to Wal-Mart for the much needed hair dye and toenail clippers. I don't even bother to try looking for spots up close. Let the mother's of those younger than I have 'em. I was, however, lucky enough to find a parking spot right beside the cart return. Cuz I'm lazy enough not to want to walk any farther to take it back than I need to. I pull into the space and can you guess what awaited me? There, right next to the cart return, actually bumping up against the metal rails, was a cart. I mean, how lazy do you have to be NOT to put the cart back when it's TWO steps away?
Like I said, there's so many important questions to be answered in this life. So many things worth my anger and disbelief. But this one. This one is really the most important.
I saw a t-shirt in one of those catalogues the other day that said: "I'm not overweight, I'm American." Perhaps a few more trips to the cart return might help with that...
posted by The Warbler | 8/27/2006 10:48:00 PM
10 Comments:
Don't have that problem at the 'Depot'...
the other day I tried to head the cart back to the cart corral. I had just finished transferring the groceries from the cart into my car and was pushing the cart towards the corral and noticed that the cart was resisting all my efforts to head it back into the corral. It now had this problematic left front wheel that kept swiveling in its socket, keeping me from pushing the cart straight in any direction. Then it started reelin and buckin. I held on for probably about 8.7 seconds-- a record from what I understand about this lot and its cart corral. I guess the point of the story is that not all the carts can be tamed, some of them want to roam the lot free, reliving the glory of their youth, just running wild and free across the horizon.
I say ...let them be.
Yup.
I remember my days of cart wranglin out on the wide plains of asphalt that stretched over the grounds near the ole Almacs. Yup. There's nothing like the smell of blacktop baking in the sun, the shimmering heat waves rising off the flat surface of the lot. There I was a young cartwrangler squintin out over the plains, keepin an eye out for the carts that would stray away from the herd. There are few of us left. Guess we're just a vanishing breed, a symbol of what freedom was really about.
Now, when you see a stray cart rollin 'round the lot, think of those of us who used to keep them in line and say a little prayer for us in our old age.
Happy Rails To You
Until we meet again
Happy Rails To You
can't keep us in the pen
Who cares about the carts in stormy weather
As long as we can cull the herd together.
Happy Rails To You
'til we meet again.
It was the best I could do under the duress of cart-obsession.
Yippie yai yay
Yippie yai yo
It's off to the supermarket we do go.
Y'all ever seem one of those doggies left there alone and it just starts goin' on its own, like slightly downhill?
So here comes Master Loose Maverick to the rescue, chasin' a dern wheel cart steed runnin' downhill right into grammy's car! Yeek, I run after it like a spotted monkey.
So I saves grammy's car and she sez "why son, thanks for the cart, how did you notice I needed something like that to help me walk? Thank you ever so much."
Meanwhile one plows into mine, that unmistakable sound of crunching metal. The dern things should be rounded up in a corral and never let out, I swear. L.M.
I was attacked by one.
It was a dark and stormy night. Rain pelting the pavement, lightning flashing through the sky, thunder growling overhead. I saw it out of the corner of my eye and noticed that it was tracking me. I would stop...it would stop. I'd dodge left and it would track after me, following my every move.
( Even now just to think of this sends chills down my spine.)
It got me just before I reached the sidewalk. I heard the squeal of its rusty wheels, but before I could turn it pounced on me from behind.
leaving my back scarred by little wheel marks....boy those things can move quickly and fiercly.
Lesson learned... Never, I repeat never turn your back on a feral shopping cart.
Went off the island yesterday and went too three or four of those places where the carts roam free. As I was emptying mine out into the car, this post came to mind and I looked around to see if the Warbler was watching me from behind a another corral across the parking lot. I couldn't see her but know she was there. So I dutifully put the little devil in the home made for it. THREE different times even!
Hats off to Everett!
This dude is one mean cartwrangler!
: )
Hey I had a job at Wally World for a while until they fired me. My job was to get all them carts in the parking lot and smash 'em together and then take 'em back into the area with the Geezer Greeters.
So here they come and they tried to teach me this electric thang that would push all of them at once. Like 30 to 80! I think they called it a bogey cart pusher or something, I dunno I was on my cell phone then.
So I did pretty good until ... well let's just say the manager said that if I left the store right then and there and there he wouldn't press damages against me. Meany! How was I supposed to know of bunch of them were still loaded, and that this stupid bogey thing could jacknife?
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