Don’t Hate the Trader, Hate the Game
Trader Hoes, originally uploaded by emilyrems.The only Trader Joe’s on the whole fair isle of Manhattan is a scant block from my apartment, but the crowds inside are so completely aggro, it takes a concentrated force of will to compel me to partake in their bargain basement organic goodies. Entering the store requires the same kind of preparations I would make before getting in a mosh pit. I have to wear boots because my feet always get squashed under the feet and wheels of frenzied shoppers and their carts. I have to steel my will and remind myself that if someone pushes me, I must push back harder. I have to look for gaps in the angry mob, and wait for just the exact right moment to dive in and grab the Odwalla Summertime Lime. and then I must wait on an endless line that makes the Trail of Tears look like an expressway, all the while reminding myself that the fights breaking out between sneaky place-in-line holders and people who have taken it upon themselves to deliver unto all perceived line cutters the most viscious kind of gang justice counts as the floorshow. Yesterday on line, as I was getting towards the home stretch by the cereal, I felt hot breath on my neck before a deep voice started muttering in my ear “This stuff is cheap, but where are the fruity pebbles? Where’s the Cap’n Crunch?” I turned around to see an older, well-dressed gentleman grinning very close behind me. “This stuff looks like Colon Blow…” he continued, in a shocking display of arcane ’80s-era SNL quotational ability. It was here that I made a run for the next available register. Is it worth it? I dunno - that Summertime Lime is pretty fucking good.