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There's something irrepressibly great about the Woodman's grocery mega-store (it's rather large, I got lost once), I don't know if it has anything to do about employees who seem slightly more human than your average Wally-world goon, their fairly low prices, or the fact that they have an entertaining ethnic section featuring “Spotted Dick” (some sort of odd English pudding) and foods from Japan which would likely cause the more prudish among us to cover their virgin ears. No, it's not any of those, it's not that which resides within the store in permanence, it's the things which come and go, it's customers.
Walking into the store itself is akin to taking a masterclass on human diversity and tolerance. Going to the store a few times will introduce you to people of every ethnicity ever conceived, every, religion ever dreamed up, every style you've ever cringed at. I've yet to see a transvestite Native-American hasidic Jew, but there's still time. (I have, however, seen each of those on their own while walking the rows in the Woodman's complex)
I'm usually not much of a people watcher, it's just not my thing, even looking around at other people in restaurants feels weird to me, my mother does this, it annoys the hell out of me when she starts talking to people, or fawning over complete strangers toddlers from 20 feet away. Anyway, Woodmans. People watching here isn't so much an activity you actively participate in so much as it's a passive maxim of shopping there. You don't have to wait for interesting people to walk by and catch your eye, or for people to start behaving in odd, but very human, ways, three steps into the store and it's already happening.
I bring up Megaman in the title for a reason, the bosses in that game had personalities, powers, and names based solely on one defining characteristic. ScissorsMan, FlameMan etc... you get the picture. Well, at Woodman's you see a lot of this, caricatures of people, based on what was seemingly one single facet of their personality. I've seen lots of them over the past 4 years I've lived in SE Wisconsin, but today was a particularly busy day for the Megaman Bosses among us.
Walking in I immediately noticed a guy who I'll call Fisherman. Wearing a floppy, neon green hat (with feather and pins included), striped suspenders, a t-shirt with some sort of large, menacing fish on it, and a fishing rod belt-buckle, I half expected him to bust out a rod right there and then and run towards the seafood department with a determined look on his face. He was easily forgotten though, there came another to steal his thunder rather quickly.
I was there to pick up hot dogs, buns, and other sundries so my mom could justify the purchase of our grill by giving it it's annual and singular usage, so I figured if I was going to have hot dogs, I'd pick good ones. Standing there debating the qualities of Nathan's brand franks over the Bar S one's we had at home and I knew I liked (went with Bar S), I noticed from the corner of my eye what appeared to be an extra from an 80's era western, either that or Haggard in plaid. I could call him a mountain man, I could call him “The Prospector”, I could call him so many things, but I'll refer to him as JuiceChinMan simply because this is the one thing which my eyes went to from the start.
He was (apparently) quite the fan of chewing tobacco, having several tins of the stuff already safely tucked away in his cart (along with an amount of alcohol that couldn't have been safe even for a man of his size). The worst part of it all was that I didn't have to imagine the guy actually using the stuff, he had a wad of the stuff (roughly the size of a baby's head if my memory serves me right) tucked away in front of his lower gum. I have no qualms with people who use tobacco products, let me just say that, nothing against smokers or anything, so long as you can get the smell of it away from me with a reasonable distance (I even find some Cigar's scents pleasant), but I think there is some special circle in Dante's hell reserved solely for the chewers of tobacco who pay no attention to their lower lip.
Images of Niagara Falls come to mind when thinking of this man's tobacco juice soaked beard. It seemed like it had come over in waves, you could see it matted down on his chin, every ounce of my being was reduced to the attempt to stay my eyes and not to stare at the man with mouth agape. As it turns out, he was in the mood for some good 'ole all American hot dogs too, and stopped his hobo cart next to me. Only when in proximity did I notice JCM's other lovely characteristics, his lack of personal hygiene, his red flannel shirt, (I'd say a belt-buckle which said “BOB” on it but no one who would ever read this would get the joke, and even then, it's a dis to BOB in comparison) oh his qualities were varied and many. I wanted with quite a bit of my will to drive over to Lowe's, purchase a pickax, give it to the man and tell him to find his calling out Californee' way, I resisted, as I said, this is a masterclass in human tolerance, and I am a tolerant, liberal 18 year old. We're a melting pot, it's his life choice, he deserves respect too, I told myself all these lies, then picked up my hot dogs and walked away sniggering.
I told myself (only half done with my Woodman's expedition) that there was no way I could encounter another person so caricatured in their appearance, no way in hell. I was proven wrong upon entering the soda aisle. BasketballMan awaited me there, waiting, as it would seem, to challenge my iron will and considerable talent in keeping a straight face. BasketballMan was tall, very tall, and I've seen very tall people before and not so much as batted an eye, but BasketballMan was, well how do I put this... TALL. I'm not one to exaggerate my stories to make them better, so I'll give a conservative estimate of 34 feet tall. Yeah.
It wasn't his height however which put him into the BasketballMan shoes (size 2,103 by the way) though, it was his attire. He plays basketball you see, how can I tell? Well, he was wearing his uniform (number 27 playing for Kenosha), armbands, and a headband too. Oh right, Air Jordans as well. I didn't deal well with this whole situation. I had to shop in the same aisle as him and it was impossible to concentrate on the vast array of sodas in front of me with a man who could likely catch a hot air balloon standing stage-left of me.
So I stared, my head cocked far back, gazing into the clouds, trying to imagine what his face would look like if only I could charter a helicopter flight within a grocery store. Bad thing happens, he notices. Shit. I can't just stop staring now, he might stoop down from the heavens and tell me what it's like out in space. Ok, what actually happens is he raises an eyebrow at me and I say, verbatim, “You're very tall.” He walks away, I'm ashamed of myself, with mouth still agape, neck hurting from having it looking so far up, but it's still craned to the spot where his head was.
“I'm sure BasketballMan gets it all the time”, I rationalize to myself. Still, I'm afraid someone saw my little lack of control, a 45 second plus staring match with a giant's ear, followed by a dumbstruck utterance. So I gather my 12 pack of Diet Pepsi (Far better than regular pepsi, but still no Sprite), pay for my things, and leave.
I saw FisherMan standing by the sliding doors (which has a sign on it reading “Child Restraints Available at Customer Service Counter”, I love this place) with a 40 pound wide mouth Bass, a manic look on his face, and a very scared Puerto Rican seafood-counter worker posing for a photo.
No I didn't, but that would've been sweet.
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WISCONSIN FTW!!
Posted Jun 23, 2008
I've been in a Woodman's a few times in my life and I am a people watcher so I connected with this story like its nobody's business. The only problem with the store is no sushi :(. From a standpoint of a person who has never been in a Woodman's, I feel you captured its essence quite well when ... (
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