Let me set the scene... Still on a high from my last Whole Foods @ Bowery experience, I depart from the office at 7:30 for a repeat. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I arrive, coupon in tow ($10 off a $50 purchase -- from the Edible Garden event we went to at the Botanical Garden in May), ready to organically, locally spend to my heart's content. This is not a problem. I have planned a couple of dinners and my lunches for the rest of the week, I choose responsibly, both ethically and economically, and I find a few treats along the way (Ciao Bella Malted Milk Ball gelato?!?!?! It's fun deciding not to be lactose intolerant this week!). Hey, I had to make sure I made it up to $50. (Why do I always think that's going to be difficult?) And so, I am once again delighted to be at WF.
And then things take a turn for the worse. Since I have purchased 1 of every vegetable in the store, it takes the cashier quite a while to ring it all up. Avocado: $2.29. Bosc pear: 80 cents. Cortland apples: $1.20. And so on and so forth through the produce alphabet to my 70 cent zucchini. To add insult to injury, the scale at the checkout is disrupted and skewed every time the F train goes by. This does not speed things along for me. 20 minutes later I am itching to get out and get home (how did it become 9pm?). I have done good work (who doesn't love a bargain?), but I'm... hungry. We all know Hungry Freya. And most of us we wish we didn't.
I know what you're thinking. "But you have 30 lbs of groceries in your hands!" Ah yes, water water everywhere and not a drop to drink. What was I going to do? Take a bite out of my pepper, a la Iron Chef?
No, thank you. I trudged over to the bus stop at 1st and 1st, just in time to see a bus pull away. Strike 1. Not the end of the world, and another one should come in about 10 minutes, right? Make that 20. Strike 2. Bus FINALLY comes, but it turns out it's a Limited, which is efficient, but takes me way past my street, and the whole point of taking the bus was to eliminate walking with all this stuff, plus my laptop. This was going to be Strike 3, but I manage to salvage some hope from the situation by switching buses at 14th Street, where a local bus comes right away. How? This makes no sense. I waited for a bus for at least 20 minutes down at 1st Street. Whatever, no questions, the MTA works in mysterious ways. I swipe my card: "Invalid card." The bus driver must have sensed my despair and lets me get on anyway. Is my luck improving?
No, it is not. 1st Avenue has come to a complete and utter halt at 42nd Street because of the UNITED NATIONS. THIS is Strike 3. I was too angry to even check the news when I got back, so I'm still not sure what was going on, but it must have been something big. After 10 minutes of absolutely no progress, the bus driver lets us get off in the middle of the street. I am frustrated and concerned for the well-being of my gelato and turkey bacon, which have been sitting out for close to an hour. It is now 10:00.
I resemble a crazy bag lady as I stumble down the block with 4 bags, glaring at the police officers and mumbling grouchily to myself. I make it to 2nd Avenue only to find that traffic is stopped there too. Can't tell if 3rd is moving, and I'm not interested in walking even further out of my way. No, no, I'll show them! I'll WALK home! Genius. I'm on the verge of tears, and my shoulder muscles are crying too under the weight of my groceries. But I am bitter, and so I try to walk home. I am sad. :(
Finally the traffic begins moving again and I walk back over to 1st and hop in a cab, 10 blocks from home. It was worth it. By the time I made it home, the frozen things were pretty soft, a chunk was taken out of my peach (I ate it anyway... it was delicious... probably the sweet taste of long-awaited success), and my favorite Fage had been speared and was oozing honey all over stuff.
Was it worth the $10 savings?
You know what? The sick thing is, I think it was.
Spoken like a true NYC grocery shopper.
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