Ah, Wilderness!

It takes a certain kind of store to overwhelm me, Eva the Shopping Diva, and Costco is one such place.

My parents, inexplicably, go weekly to this uber-store as if they were constantly restocking a fallout shelter. Not to be out done by their shopping prowess, I decided to face the gaping jaws of this mega-retailer after work the other day. I should have eaten my Wheaties.

Everything is extra large in Costco. Shopping carts move like barges through the aisles, and stacks of pallets and boxes rise like icebergs up two stories to the corrugated ceiling. Beacons of fluorescent light reflect off cellophane wrapped cases, obscuring content. Hoards of flat screened TVs blink with cloned, muted images next to displays of coffins and coffee pots. I've only taken three steps and I'm out of breath. To the south, I can see racks of bread rising in the glow of the meat department cases. To the west, a field of outdoor furniture stretches out toward towers of paper products. I am a retailing pioneer left to my own devices, braving the vast territory of bulk products.

I reach for box of tissues and realize with horror that it's not one box but 12. It takes two hands for me keep the whole display from tumbling down on top of me. My thirst drives me to an aisle full of juices. To my dismay, the two-gallon set of apple juice form concentrate encased in cardboard and plastic is too heavy for me to lift off the floor. Sweat beads on my brow as I push the unwieldy shopping cart forward. I must press on. Ahead of me, beyond mounds of fleece pullovers and tube socks, I spy giant tins of cookies and pillowcase-sized bags of candy. My salvation! I ditch the cart and grab a tub of roasted nuts. Thankfully, it's right in front of the check out counter. The rest is a blur until I find myself back in my car, in the parking lot, elbow deep in roasted nuts. My breathing slows and I realize that I'm not quite the shopper I thought I was, yet.

Good Luck and Good Shopping!