Code Black: My Morning In Intimate Apparel

So I was in Men’s Underwear when the alarm sounded. To clarify, I wasn’t wearing briefs/boxers, but rather pushing my shopping cart past racks of underpants en route to the groceries.
“Attention Associates And Customers…” boomed a voice over the loud speaker.
“Code Black! Cease shopping! Move immediately to the center of the store!”
Nonplussed, I wandered from my cart back toward Intimate Apparel, a.k.a. the very center of the store. The World’s Largest Retailer was my first stop of the morning. I had nothing but time on my hands. No appointments scheduled, no critters in tow calling me “Mamma!”
Standing near some Associates with glowing I-Phones, I discovered we were in the midst of a tornado warning. Which, I must say, is a glorious time to People Watch. I grabbed the tiny notebook I keep in my purse, but couldn’t find a pen. Drat. These are the moments Novels are Born.
Nevertheless, I sauntered in and out of the silky-polka-dot bra and matching panties sets. I tried to gather a little piece of Americana from the crowd around me.
There were decidedly different reactions from the motley crew of folks. The store lights flickered on and off and back on again. One Associate commenced to hyperventilating between sobs. Fellow employees gathered around her. One offered to bring a chair, one commented not to worry, he’d happily step over her body and on to safety should the need arise. She was not encouraged.
An older lady wove in and out of the racks toward me. I would have claimed I’d never seen her before in my life, but she seemed to know me. She mentioned mutual friends, so we must have met at some point.
“I’ve lived through hurricanes and I’ve lived through tornadoes. It’s getting to be where any place you live there’s always some kind of disaster lurking. Lord, I wish I could get through to Aunt Jane, she’s probably at home worrying right now. Hope this rain doesn’t flood my art studio….again.” And she wandered off.
Head full of curlers, a lady chatted with an associate. “Figures, TODAY is the day I scheduled my hair.”
Some of the boys in charge of gathering shopping carts from the parking lot paced back and forth. Bored. Thinking it would be much more fun to be outside in the tornadic winds, than here in Apparel.
Beep. Beep. Beep. An elderly man put his wheel-chair cart in reverse and almost ran me over. I scooted to the front of the crowd and squinted toward the book racks. I could almost make out some of the titles. I debated a quick sprint to grab some literature, and then dash back to Intimate Apparel. I quickly realized my taste in books was slightly different from the collection before me. With a sigh, I tiptoed past Wheel-chair-cart man and toward a group of employees.
“Not even a tornado gonna keep me from my coffee break.”
“Wonder if I should call someone at the Park and check on my home?”
“Man, you have to check out Best Buy. They can match that price!”
I took out my cell phone to call The Husband. Might as well let him know where to look for me, should the tornado indeed strike. No answer. I left a message that in case of emergency, I could be found between the lacy negligee display and the control top girdles.
The lights flickered off and on again. I counted my blessings that I didn’t happen to have four children jumping in and out of my shopping cart as did the grandmother to my left.
I browsed Women’s Apparel. There is actually a clothing line called, “America’s Next Top Model.” And I debated whether to try on the imitation leather vest jacket and stretch pants from the Miley Cyrus Collection. (Who knew?) Apparently I’ve been missing out on current fashion fads. However, in my defense, my clothes are so out of style they’ve actually started to come back in-style again.
A Manager with a ginormous walkie-talkie came bursting through the store’s front door. “Code Black Lifted!” He cried triumphantly.
And the beleaguered crowd meandered back to their abandoned shopping carts and Grocery Lists. I finished my shopping. Twenty four rolls of toilet paper for the Mummy Wrap game, two boxes of Halloween sprinkle cookies, Orange Crush ¬2¬ Liters for the Ring Toss at Fall Festival, potato chips, bottles of water, a pie pumpkin. I headed for the Check Out Registers.
Good thing I wore my jogging shoes. Because one thing is always for certain: if my shopping cart is brimming with groceries….so much so that I have to actually use one hand to balance the mound of bags piled on top of one another…then the torrential downpour will commence as soon as I reach the storefront.
I look out the glass doors to get my bearings. Of course, I am parked in the very farthest point of the lot. I can’t actually SEE my car, since the rain is forming a zero visibility shield. But I remember the general location of the vehicle.
I tie together the tops of the grocery bags, place one hand on the handlebar and one hand on top of the pile o’ groceries. I burst forth into the parking lot with Chariots of Fire speed and agility. I sail through puddles, between cars, past a gentleman flipping off a van that inadvertently (I hope) splashed him. I load my soggy items into the trunk, and dive behind the wheel. (Quite literally, I mean there was water everywhere.)
Home again, home again, jiggety-jig. Not quite as exciting as huddling with strangers in Intimate Apparel. But warm, and dry. Now to unpack. I just hope my new Miley Cyrus wardrobe looks as good on me as it did on the rack…