I was at Whole Foods around 4:30 p.m. last Thursday. Cameron is a locavor, so I rode my bikes the eight blocks to the store to buy locally raised produce so that she can enjoy her food in good conscience, Most of the larger grocery stores in New York City are on two levels. You take an escalator that has a stair function for the shopper and a smooth glide function for your cart to go up and down.
I went downstairs with my shopping cart to begin in the fresh produce and meat department. The place was jam packed with people. Mom's pushing strollers and pulling small carts, seniors in their hover rounds, young professionals dashing through with their hand held baskets, and the rest of us with large carts trying to find dinner for the family. I was in the fruit and vegetable area and there was complete grid lock. I saw an opening but I was going to have to push past an older Jewish woman who was slowly and purposefully looking at grapefruit. I smiled and said, "Excuse me" as I pushed my cart past hers. I was expecting the cart handles to bump each other, but nothing more. As I passed I saw her finger when it was already too late. She had her left hand all the way to the far edge of her cart and he pinky was on the outer edge of the handle. As our carts made contact she screamed, "My finger! I think she broke my finger!". Needless to say I stopped my forward motion. I apologized. She did not acknowledge that I was even speaking to her. I offered to go the fish counter to get her ice for her finger. She just kept saying, "I think she broke my finger." Just to clarify, there was no blood and although I knew that it hurt (it REALLY hurt) I knew it was not broken. Remember, there was a major traffic jam and now our interaction was just compounding the situation. I apologized profusely again, and then I just moved forward. She was not acknowledging that I was even speaking to her and I knew, although it hurt, she had not "broken".
I made my way down towards the dairy aisle. I could still hear her talking about her finger. I wondered who she was talking to and guessed that she had cornered a produce stock clerk to retell her story to. I was about to round the corner back towards the meat counter when I heard her say, "She broke my finger and then she just strolled away!" Ok, now she is retelling the story and making it sound like I had crushed her finger without even stopping. I didn't dare round the corner to see who she was talking to. Paranoia set in and I was afraid she had managed to get the attention of a manager. If feared that if they saw me I would be escorted out of the store.
I saw an elevator open and rushed forward to get in. I didn't dare take take the escalator where I would be exposed for her to point out and identify.
Although I needed cheese for a quiche that night I made a bee line for the registers. Thank god there was a lull and I don't think I stood in line for more than five minutes. All the while I was expecting to have a tap on the shoulder and to be escorted from the store.
I once I'd finished with the register I rushed to my bike and quickly balanced my bags between the two handles. I sped home and did not stop to look back until I was safely on stoop.
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