Aselin

Today was a pretty big day. I suppose one's perspective can be a little skewed when they're hopped up on cranberry juice and Cipro, but still, it was big for me.

I went to Costco. Anyone who lives in Arizona in the winter knows that locals avoid Costco in the winter like the plague. But I had a list, and I HAD to go. So I venture to that scary part of town just off the freeway where they build Costcos and fight my way through the mass of humanity congregated in the parking lot stowing their three gallons of maple syrup and 17 pounds of kielbasa in various trunks. I can't believe how many people feel they need to shop at Costco - but in the winter...

The snowbirds flock worse than anything Hitchcock could have imagined. Thousands of wandering, aimless seniors with out-of-state license plates and matching t-shirts spend the afternoon at Costco swarming each sample booth like fire ants. If you want to get in, buy some bread and a chicken, you're out of luck. You will have to slalom past countless couples pushing giant cars with one item in them. It's not for the faint of heart.

But, since I am trying again for the Mother of the Year trophy, I attempt to get the list of items the children posted a month ago.

Pushing past people clamoring for a bite sized taste of microwave cheese pizza, I think I've got a shot at getting out in one piece. My fifteen minute list took me over an hour. it was like L.A. rush hour traffic, except in L.A. traffic people know how to drive.

Getting out to my car was like a game of chicken/frogger. People waving me ahead of them and then flooring the gas pedal as I sprinted, stopped, swerved, ducked. Despite the fact that I wore hot pink, I still don't think many of them ever saw me. Collapsing in the driver's seat of safety I gave a heavy sigh of relief and slowly backed out of my space.

Like some sort of velociraptor radar, the movement of my car summoned four different drivers for the spot. Since they were all sure they were first, no one was going to budge. The only problem with this turf war was I was totally boxed in. Of course, the logical solution was for all the other drivers to start honking. I threw up my hands and pulled back into the space. They all had some sort of non-verbal death match until two of them gave up and I was able to back out.

Joy.

Waiting at the light to turn left onto the main road I was thrilled to be out of the parking lot. The light turns green and the car to my right pulls out into traffic. After a rather insightful two days at traffic school (eons ago, of course), I developed the habit of counting two seconds before pulling out into traffic after a red light. I'm sitting there counting and then start to pull out as I suddenly notice - at full, break-neck speed AND slow motion all at the same time - a female specimen of the snowbird variety barreling past the two lanes of stopped traffic THROUGH THE RED LIGHT right at my door.

Shielding my head and bracing for the impact, I leaned to the right and thought, "I'm gonna die!"

There was horrible screeching and then silence. I admit, for a split second I was pretty sure I was dead since I didn't hurt anywhere, and I didn't hear anything. I slowly sat up and there was the snowbird, staring through her windshield right at me - the hood of her car not more than one inch from my door.

Some guy runs out into the street and starts yelling "How did she not hit you? I thought you were dead!"

That makes two of us.

The guy gets the snowbird to back up, and then motions me on. I suppose it's not leaving the scene of an accident if the car doesn't actually make contact with anything. I slowly drive away with more adrenaline pumping through my body than my blood stream knows what to do with. I'm shaking all over and think I peed my pants a little.

All I can say is man, she must have been living right.