Woah Woah Woah

Some days it's just not your day. And other days crazy people become possessed of visions of your future and freak the bejesus out of you.

But I'm getting ahead of myself here.

So I left work and was desperately hungry. I went over the various options in my head of what I could make for dinner when I got home. This going over made me realize that I have nothing in my fridge besides a month-old gingerbread house, and nothing in the kitchen but the heel of a loaf of bread and a quarter bottle of rum.

I find these three things to be less appetizing than you would think, so I decide to go grocery shopping - braving the West Village for a chance at a real meal. Of course, it is right at rush hour, so it takes forever to get there. And the place is so packed that I get what I firmly believe to be the only available spot in the entire lot, all the way on the far side of the complex. I was closer to my house than I was to the store. Oh, and of course, it is pouring down rain.

But whatever, I have braved far worse conditions in search of food. I got all loaded up with things that are high in sugar and low in nutritional value (like you do) and beeline for the register, knowing that it will take a good half hour to get through the checkout portion of the night's festivities, because this is the most popular store in the history of mankind.

Surprisingly, my line moved very quickly. This was good, but inversely proportional to my mood, as the next two people behind me in line each have a small child with them, and each small child was vying for the title of World's Most Annoying Carbon-Based Life Form. By the time I got my items up on the little movable conveyor belt, my left eye was twitching uncontrollably and I was mere minutes from flinging a pack of baby carrots at one of their tiny little heads.

But blissfully I swiped my card and could finally get out of Dodge. The bagging lady pushed the cart over to me and says "Have a nice day!"

I am free.

Suddenly, the bagging lady grabs my arm.

[Note: This actually happened, as totally weird as it will soon sound.]

Bagging Lady: Wait!

[She starts staring off into the distance, her head cocked to one side. Her eyes are sort of unfocused, and she has a death grip on my arm just below the shoulder. ]

Jason: What?!

Bagging Lady: You must. Be. Careful. Driving. (suddenly she is channeling William Shatner)

Jason: Ooohh-kay...

Bagging Lady: It is. Raining and. Slippery. Don't crash. (on the "and. Slippery" she starts shaking me in time with each new word. "and (shake) Slippery (shake) Don't (shake) crash (shake)")

Thus far I have been sort of standing perpendicular to her and her crazy ranting. Meaning I am in position to push the cart and she is standing to the side of it. Following the last shake after "Crash" she does this weird sort of push release of my (now very sore) shoulder and looks down, sighing heavily. This push sort of pivots me so that I'm directly facing her.

I start to move to get the hell far away from her (Jason's brain: Ahh! Possessed baggers! This is exactly why we usually go to Krogers!), when all of a sudden she pops her head up and looks right into my eyes. And not to sound all sexist or anything, but bitch be crazy. She's got one mean dead-eyed stare in her that I haven't seen as well perfected since Children of the Corn.

Bagging Lady (all creepy and monotone): Don't crash. Don't die.

Jason's Brain: Woah, Woah, Woah, WOAH!

And the weirdest part (okay, not the weirdest part. That right there was the weirdest part) was that no one else noticed anything odd at all. Following this little declaration of my death, she turns around and starts bagging stuff again. I look over, and the woman with the hateful little child is writing a check, the cashier is running items through, and all the other shoppers are merrily (or wetly, y'know) leaving the store.

I frantically run from the store out into the pouring rain and stuff all my purchases into the cab of the Truck of Malfunction (Jason's Brain: She just predicted your death by car crash and you drive something call the Truck of Malfunction! Jesus Christ!). I am now sopping wet, my glasses are covered in water and nothing I do will get them clean enough to see out of (Jason's Brain: And you're now basically blind in a rainstorm! In a Truck of Malfunction!!!).

To say that the drive home was a bit stressful is an understatement so great that it deserves some kind of award. But it happened without much difficulty whatsoever. It was only 2 miles, after all. Still. I never want to drive again as long as I live.

Way to ruin my life, Crazy Bagging Lady.