Costco Wholesale
During the early weeks of august, 2014, my mother put the minivan into park and unbuckled her seatbelt. Me and my mom walked across the dark parking lot of Costco Wholesale. We strolled (taking our time) towards the tall, plain building, standing tall in front of the blinding sun, casting a dark shadow over us. The solid outer walls emitted a boring tone to me, making me not very interested to go inside. We strode through the open, garage door like doors that led to the room holding the grey carts in long rows. I gripped the red handle of a shopping cart, observing the large width of it. As we entered, I noticed another door next to the entrance where people were exiting in the opposite direction with full carts. My mom then showed her membership card to the greeter at the entrance.
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The bright lights attached to the unfinished ceiling shone brightly down on the plethora of products and goods below, similar to how the sun shines down on the Earth. There as a constant buzz of noise, people talking, and the carts rattling against the smooth, concrete floor.
“Mom, what do we need here?” I said.
“Just getting groceries.” She said
Walking slowly, surrounded by towering shelves, and free samples everywhere, we made our way towards the back of the store. The temptation to climb the shelves was tempting, but easily resistible. This is where the fresh foods were made, thus, a strong savory scent wafted in my direction. This was the smell of 40 rotisserie chickens cooking in an industrial sized machine for cooking the chickens they use in the foods they freshly package daily.
As we passed the liquor section, we saw large glass cases with different kinds of fish lying in piles of ice. My mother saw this and she pointed and asked:
“Want some shrimp Sam?”
“Of course mom! Do you?” I said