From Cart to Finish

As I have documented in the past, I have little knowledge of Katie and my immediate neighbors. Those who share the other sides of our walls, floors, and ceilings (assuming someone lives on the roof) come and go with little trace. They haven’t even given me enough material for them to come up with nicknames. They remain nameless. However, we have an extended neighbor, who lives just across the street from our apartment building, and has actually revealed its surname. And, again, as I have documented in the past (here and here), that surname is Wegman’s.

It is a magical place.

Like the world’s other place for magic, Walt Disney World in Orlando, Florida, there are certain constants that arise with such an attraction. The chief constant, of course, is that you can guarantee that both lands of wonder will be jam-packed with visitors, young and old, on a Saturday afternoon. (Fortunately, Wegman’s does not share the characteristic with the Magic Kingdom when it comes to population levels of mice.)

We were two such visitors to the charming world of Wegman’s, and it was in that visit that we discovered that supernatural quality it possesses as the best supermarket/grocery store in Fairfax County.

The thing that makes Walt Disney World (and its associated theme parks) unique is that more moves than just the “cast members.” Animatronics are the name of the game, which is what gives attractions like the Haunted Mansion, Tower of Terror, or even Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride seem super lifelike. It is a system of computers, machinery, and fancy wiring that generates Disney magic.

Wegman’s doesn’t need to generate. That place is haunted.

On a Saturday afternoon, the size of Wegman’s massive parking lot is totally justified, as it seems every last parallel slot is put to good use. That’s great vindication for the architectural planning firm that conceived the two-story massive facility. It’s bad news for Katie and me, who pull in with little hope of parking and purchasing groceries today. And while we could have walked from our apartment, I’m not too keen about carrying 41 bags of groceries (because everything seems to end up individually bagged) across the street. So we press on, with little hope of parking.

Until…

As we made a left towards the supermarket itself, the aisle was lined with stationary vehicles. But other than that, it was empty. When you turn down a decidedly “no vacancy” aisle, you have no other choice but to hit the gas and proceed to the adjacent runway. Except, the magic of Wegman’s showed its true side.

A shopping cart, with no computers, machinery, or fancy wires, mysteriously crossed from the right side of the lane, ever so slowly, to the left side of the lane. It crossed our path, with all the mysterious trappings of a black cat, a tumbleweed, a chicken crossing the road.

Note: all chickens at a supermarket should be packaged and stored in your grocer’s freezer.

The first thing we thought of was the plight of the poor vehicle on the left hand side of the aisle. But when we arrived at its final destination, it the magic of Wegman’s had slid the cart right between a silver Camry and a white Accord. Not a dent or scratch to be seen. And what’s more, to the right of the Accord, an EMPTY PARKING SPOT was ours for the taking. Forget the 40 MPH wind – that cart was trying to tell us something – where to park.

Needless to say, we selected the Enchanted Shopping Cart for our shopping trip.

Just wow.