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Combat training

December 1, 2011

Today I arrived at the commissary about an hour later than I normally do.  This meant that the Bob Hope Village bus had beat me there, and instead of being a step ahead of The Village People, I was going to be swimming through a stream of them all the way through the commissary.

Turns out I was not only swimming through a stream of Village People, but also a stream of mothers whose children were still a bit young for preschool.  Or perhaps children who had been kicked out of preschool, judging from the amount of cart gymnastics and general cavorting I witnessed.  I don’t miss taking my little kids to the commissary.  It will spend your sanity cells at an unprecedented rate.

The idea of sweet grannies and grandpas doing their weekly shopping together might sound charming, but let me assure you:  granny will RUN YOU OVER.  And she will not bat an eye.  And I know this because of the numerous times I’ve been hit, including the time a grandpa gave me whiplash by ramming me with his electric cart.  And no, I’m not kidding.  I had to get the chiropractor to fix me.

I never realized until we moved here that the commissary could be a combat zone.  Sometimes I feel like I need a helmet and padding and some sort of weaponry to even go in there.  You just never know what’s going to happen.  Which is both scary and quite entertaining.

The good news is that I survived the trip and I didn’t lose any body parts.  I had to come home and sleep it off, but if that’s as bad as it gets, well…I’ll take it!


3 Comments leave one →
  1. Eric Partin permalink
    December 2, 2011 5:25 am

    My grandmother pulled a gun on someone at the commissary once.

  2. December 2, 2011 7:00 am

    Oh Girl…….
    I love my old people but I would not want to shop with them! Glad you got thru it without injury.

  3. bethkvogt permalink
    December 2, 2011 1:52 pm

    Ah, commissary shopping days.
    I don’t miss ’em.
    And now I remember why.

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