Quick rant

Dear all you Douchebags at the ghetto grocery store,

          Recently, I came ashore to get some fresh produce. I usually get 1-2 chances to go grocery shopping while I'm in the middle of a 4- week voyage. As such, I often have 1-2 hours max to do everything I need to do before some tugboat bounces off our hull at ramming speed to remind us that it's time to go. This is done just in case we're asleep, so that when the plates come flying out of the cabinets, they will be sure to shatter, which will ensure that we are all awake just in case we didn't actually suffer a head injury when we got knocked out of bed.

    At any rate, recently, I got to enjoy a 45-minute stint in line at your supermarket, because the nice supermarket I normally go to went underwater in the last hurricane, and, unfortunately for me, yours did not.
The 45 minute wait came because there are 14 registers, but only one was manned, and all but one of the self-serve registers was off limits due to an apparent overstock of some bullshit items that you couldn't find display space for.

   Luckily for me, it was Check Day, and with everyone's EBT cards burning holes in their pockets, you were selling cigarettes and Orange Crush by the gross. Shame there was no '12 items or less' register open.
   I spent my 45 minute wait in line enjoying a domestic dispute between a lovely middle-aged homeless couple who were buying smokes and lottery tickets with their disability check, and a 400-lb lady who kept repeating 'he is a assho' " in her phone. I was very surprised to see that the copies of 'us weekly' and 'People Magazine' didn't take up and start orbiting around her. I was not surprised, however, to find that she smelled of sweat, pee and waffles.

    Sadly, after 45 minutes, a lovely surly girl with prison tattoos, purple and silver hair sculpted into a weird bird/dreadlock thing, and a nice necklace that said 'thug life' in cursive script took my groceries, which had wilted from the exhaust belching out of both ends of my gas giant of a neighbor in line, ending my adventure in misanthropy for the day.