As almost every apartment – and house – dweller on campus knows, from time to time you need to make a trip to the grocery store. For some people, this trip occurs once a week; for others, once a month. For those of you who get your entire sustenance at Bonnie Jean’s or Silver Mine, party on – but feel free to keep reading so that if you ever get the urge to go to the supermarket, you know the types of people to look out for.

Going to the grocery store can be a royal nuisance because when most people walk through the entrance and see all the food, they transform into robots trapped in slow motion – apparently in awe over the array of options. Look, Calculatron, Butternut and Wonder are basically the same crappy bread. It doesn’t really matter which you buy, so grab one or the other and punch in the code that allows you move out of my way so I can get some too. Domo arigato.

Not everyone mutates into an automated drone, however. Most college kids are good at finding what they need in an aisle and hurrying along. But, this “skill” is greatly diminished in older demographics.

Just the other day I was actually enjoying my excursion to the store – until I turned down the cereal aisle. Positioned so he and his cart blocked the entire aisle, a gigantic man sporting a lavish mullet that tickled the back of his dirt-encrusted NASCAR jacket was comparing two boxes of cereal – one in each hand. This normally wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, except he was comparing identically sized boxes of identical cereal. When I politely said, “Excuse me,” the behemoth responded with a gruff, “Wait a sec.” I guess you just don’t get any respect when you look like you’re 12.

No more than three minutes later, I walked through the candy aisle, where a Sylvester Stallone wannabe asked a guy wearing a Mathematica T-shirt whether he should buy the regular or large bag of Valentine’s Day candy for his lady-friend. Nothing says “I love you” quite like a package of bite-size Three Musketeers from Super Wal-Mart. Because pseudo-Sly has already made a potential relationship-ending mistake by choosing this as a Valentine’s Day gift, he might as well scrape together whatever dignity he has left and go large. Show her how much you really love her, you Rocky replicate. Be a hero. Buy the big bag.

These situations pale in comparison to what I witnessed a few weeks ago. In a hurry to leave the store, I had almost made my way through the produce section when I get stuck behind an old, obese woman in a motorized cart. Maybe she had some type of medical condition, or maybe she was just too fat to stand up. Regardless, I was amazed at her outrageously haphazard driving, which culminated in the destruction of a few loaves of Hawaiian bread after she inadvertently knocked them off a shelf, then proceeded to run them over. Unfazed by the incident, she stormed onward towards the checkout lanes.

Even more stupefying, a customer who witnessed the event had the nerve to chastise me for not helping to pick up the mess. Hey Mother Teresa, do you see a name tag on my shirt? I don’t go grocery shopping to pay $5 for a Tombstone pizza AND assist in cleaning up after flabby senior citizens. Give me a break. Plus, I had something else to worry about. If Big Blanche could do this kind of damage with a motorized cart that tops out at a whopping 3 mph, just imagine what she can do when nestled in her Buick Park Avenue. I needed to get myself out of that store, and my Toyota Corolla out of that parking lot – immediately.

Sure, supermarket hassles could be easily avoided by going to the store at two in the morning, but at that time, some of us are busy sleeping (or playing online poker). Grocery shopping is a simple task. Get in. Get what you need. Get out.

For those who can’t follow this simple procedure, don’t be surprised when I use my cart as a battering ram on you. You’ve been warned.