Tuesday, March 25, 2008


I want to talk about the Explosions in the Sky show last night. That’s what I’d love to do. I’d like to persuade those opposed to music without lyrics and words to believe in a new kind of rocky instrumental goodness, the kind that comes with a few guitars and a drummer and a touch of Texas indie hippified spectacle. I’d like to share how they were able to shake the rafters fairly regularly and how that wee band had more smilers gathered per capita than those that actually have words and more hype and bigger fan bases in their corner. It was a wall of sound that lasted one solid fantastic hour or more.

I’d talk more about that, but I was distracted by an after-concert visit to the Albertson’s near my house, the one reserved for crazy people. Used to be that we had a Ghetto Smith’s up in Sugarhouse but, ever since it got a facelift, the crazies had to shift gears and start coming downtown to feel at home. It gets worse at night, too, right around the 11 ‘o clock hour. I promptly forgot about that last night, though, when I went to buy my milk. Because of this, I declare myself to be an idiot.

In addition to my organic milk, I also decided some lunchmeat and bananas and such also needed buying and, lucky me, my friend Michele decided it wasn’t the worst way in the world to end an evening. About the time I was in front of the cottage cheese, deciding whether I’d go small or large curd this time around, somebody came up behind me with something to say. He had just picked up some eggs. Size medium.

Crazy guy: “Did you say something to me, A—hole?” And, as there wasn’t anybody else in the store, I made the correct assumption that he was talking to me.
Me: “No.” (injecting an incredulous “You’re ridiculous” stare about here)
Nervous Michele (using laughter to ease the tension): “Why, did you think he said something?”

He didn’t give a straight answer, but backed away fairly quickly and I went about deciding on small curd. As for the crazy, I’m not so sure the screws were turning the right way in his head. Made sense, too, it being the Albertson’s for crazy people. He was obviously agitated, a little jittery and, well, he got my name completely wrong. It’s one thing to mispronounce it, but come ON.

He threw me for a loop. Up until last night, I’ve never been bullied in a supermarket. It was an entirely new experience for me. In retrospect, I could have said so many other things back in his direction. It was surreal enough to be a movie scene, after all, so I’m sure these would play out just as well in a movie. Michele and I came up with some good ones together. Perhaps I’ll hold to them for future reference.

• “Yeah, I’m talking to you, Egg-man! What’re you gonna coo-coo-ca-choo do about it?”
• “You picked the wrong aisle to walk down, mister. And it ain’t big enough for the both of us. Now, how bout you mosey on over to the one with HoHos on it before something bad happens?”
• “Actually, I was. I was mentioning that the Rogaine is nowhere near the dairy products. Bummer of a receding hairline, too.”

No, none of them are very nice. In my defense, he wasn’t the nicest guy I’ve come across. I guess I could have just assumed he was off his meds and that was the best way he could find it in himself to greet a stranger. In that case, I could have really thrown him for a loop by offering, “Why, I’m feeling pretty friggin’ fabulous this evening, and yourself?” but that just wouldn’t have been as fun, nor as awesome. But maybe … maybe I’d still say it.

But only if I could fit “coo-coo-ca-choo” in there somewhere, though.


Cindy said...

The Family Ghetto Albertsons! I was out on my porch swinging in my swing until 10pm. I might have seen this guy shuffle past me at some time or another. I think it's best to not say rude things to crazy people because they will cut you.

Dainon. said...

Or, considering the situation, I may have been egged. I would have retaliated by TP'ing him, but with no trees or front yard, what's the point, really?

Sara said...

I love your story! The coo-coo-ca-choo one would be my favourite response. I'm glad he didn't beat you up or anything.

You and Max could be in a Bullied at the Grocery Store club together. Remember that?


TRIBU said...

He most likely moved on after you adjusted your groceries, flashing the can of whoop a-- that you picked up in aisle two.

Midge said...

I thought I passed by you last night, at the show not Albertson's, but you were hugging up on some chic and it was dark and crowded on the balcony so we didn't stay up there. It was a great show though.

Ashley said...

That Albertson's is definitely scary. I won't go in there alone.

You could always go the Sting route-- his liner notes for "...Nothing Like the Sun" claim the inspiration for that title came when he was accosted by a drunk who asked him how beautiful the moon was, and Sting replied with Shakespeare--"My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun"-- and it confused the drunk enough that he declared it a good answer and wandered off.

Speaking of Sting, POLICE ticket! Think about it.

SJ said...

Ooh, Ashley, I like that story.

Jillian said...

I think it pretty wise to temper snotty comebacks with the reality of whether or not said drunk man could take you in a fight.

You probably took the more wise, mature option....especially since you were with Nervous Michelle.

Dainon. said...

Please note: He was most certainly not drunk. Just crazy. There's a difference. A BIG one.

tim & brandi said...

Yeah, crazy people are MUCH scarier! I would rather drive 5 more minutes to the Smiths on 9th & 8th than go into that Albertsons. I know a cop who got pushed through a window there once. As for the Explosions In the Sky show, I AM SO JEALOUS. We really don't get many good shows here, unless you consider Wayne Newton a good show.


TRIBU said...

I kind of like my new description "Nervous MicheLe", it will make people think twice before messing with me...nervous people are so unpredictable!

Dainon. said...

I totally misspelled your llamo. Sorry about that. It's been corrected, never to remembered again.