The automatic sliding doors open, and I step through into a whole new world.  Food fills the shelves ahead of me from left to right—the grocery store.  I walk to the room where the bright crimson carts spill into the aisle and grab one, ready to start my weekly adventure of grocery shopping. 
My first destination is the juice aisle, but when I see a mom with her three crying children in that aisle, I decide to return later.  My next stop is the produce section.  I see the nearly-blind Mrs. Chester there, so I direct her to the usual destination—the cat food aisle.  She grabs at my arm and insists that her cats will starve if she doesn’t bring some Meow Mix home soon, but I just assure her that they will survive for 20 minutes without it.  After all, Mrs. Chester buys about four times as much cat food as they actually need to eat. 
Once I load some potatoes and carrots into my cart, I continue to the chips aisle.  There I pass a college-age kid whose cart mainly consists of Ramen and instant coffee.  I also see a middle-aged man who grabs about fifteen bags of chips to add to his cart that already has three boxes of King-Size candy bars and five dozen donuts.  I can’t tell if he is a junk food addict, or if the food is just for a concession stand.  He could even be preparing for an apocalypse.  I shrug my shoulders at the silent thoughts in my head, throw a bag of Doritos in my cart, and head back to the juice aisle. 
After attaining two bottles of grape juice, the last thing on my shopping list is a box of granola bars.  As usual, I see my health-nut neighbor reading the labels of every single box she picks up.  I wouldn’t be surprised if it takes her another ten minutes just to decide which box of granola bars to buy for her kids.  Careful not to disrupt her concentration, I quickly and quietly select a box of my favorite granola bars to set in my cart.
At the end of the aisle, I see my friend Rita shopping for groceries, so I stroll over to greet her and ask how she’s doing.  I inquire why she has a cart full of random items in huge quantities—ten containers of rainbow sprinkles, a dozen boxes of baking powder, sixteen packages of instant gravy, and much more.  Apparently, Rita likes shopping for “good deals” and buys whatever is on sale, even though she originally came to the store to buy cheese, eggs, frozen pizza, and bread.
I peer back down the aisle, and notice that my neighbor has finally left, presumably with her granola bars. In her place, I see the super meticulous (slightly OCD) store manager, who came to straighten every box she moved or bumped.   
I head to the only open checkout line, which extends about four miles long.  Directly ahead of me is an elderly couple who only have one item in their shopping cart—a half-gallon of skim milk.  I chat with them for what seems like an hour but is probably closer to five minutes.  I peer ahead to see what the holdup is.  Of course, there is that one lady who has fourteen billion coupons she is trying to use.  Most of them are expired, but she’s arguing with the teenage boy cashier, who would clearly rather be somewhere else.  I feel bad for him because his job can’t be easy right now. 
Finally, the coupon lady leaves, triumphant in her money savings.  The next guy in line looks to be about 30 years old.  He must either be single, or have a wife who is a bad cook, because everything he purchases consists of packaged food and instant meals.  He has things like potato chips, boxed macaroni and cheese, frozen waffles, beef jerky, frozen chicken nuggets, pretzels, and Little Debbie cupcakes.  I mean, it’s a free country, right?
It’s my turn to check out, and by then, the work shifts must have changed.  I am greeted, not by a teenage boy, but by an overly-helpful lady who tells me to have a nice day about eight times.  I just smile through my gritted teeth and tell her the same thing.  As I’m leaving, I hear the father who was in line behind me bribing his kids with candy to “be good until we get home.”  A good bribe can accomplish even the hardest of tasks. 
I walk out the door, and just like that, my adventure is over…until next week.