The one throwback to Communist times that I think I can do without is the issue of line formation.
Today I was in Spar to stock up on food supplies. The stores will be closed a few days for holiday, and many, many people had the same idea. Tip: You can always tell how busy the supermarket is by how many shopping carts are missing from the cart storage.
I went inside and did my thang (by "thang," I mean, “got my groceries”...I wasn't shaking what my momma gave me down the tea aisle or anything like that). After I did my “thang,” I went down aisle number 6 to get in line for the checkout.
Enter 50 year old lady (okay, 50 is generous...it was more like 60).
I first noticed something amiss when I felt her breathing down my neck. No, that isn't just a figure of speech. Her breath was literally down my neck.
The next thing I know I have the end of a shopping cart rammed into my backside (what my momma gave me).
Thinking this is some sort of sneak attack, I immediately spring into ninja pose and confront the woman (not really). Actually, I just nonchalantly glance behind me to see her reaction.
Is she breathing heavily and in full ninja pose? Will I be slayed by a look that could kill? Is she mad at me for taking the last bottle of Kékfrankós? Because that would be crazy...there were plenty of bottles on the shelf when I left the scene.
What?! No expression whatsoever! She seems not to realize that anything is amiss, and is unable to comprehend that she violated another human being's posterior, not to mention an American's personal space, of which we value in plentiful amounts.
I have a theory. So I test this theory.
I move my cart up a few inches.
Sure enough, I feel her cart in my backside again, but wait a minute, the cart feels different this time. More curvy. Hm...(pause as I glance behind)
It's her! Not only is she breathing down my neck, but she is so close to me that I can make out her frame from hips to shoulders.
Again I casually check behind me to see if she notices anything amiss.
Nope. I guess invading other's personal space and somewhat violating people in the checkout line is just her thing.
Then I get to thinking. I've heard of such happenings before; I am not the only victim of this victimless crime. My theory is that crowding and rear-ending in Eastern European lines (“queues” if your British) is a common occurrence for people over the age of 40. It's happened to me before, and is always the result of some little old lady “gettin' all up in my space,” to use the parlance of our times. I can only assume it has something to do with Communism and a limited supply of packaged laundry soap.