wow... can't say as I've done that before...

So there I was, finally home from work when Misti reminded me that I hadn't gotten the sour cream I promised I'd get. So, plans changed and I headed back out into the car to get the sour cream from the ghetto Bi-Lo. Now keep in mind, not all bi-lo's are ghetto, but this one is ghetto.

This is how you can tell a ghetto Bi-Lo from non-ghetto Bi-Lo's (for that matter, I'd say this principle is fairly universal), Ghetto Bi-Lo's have wheel locks on their grocery carts so people can't take them out of the parking lot. In the event you don't know what these are I'll describe quickly. Now, there is a line creating a border around the parking lot, which when triggered, creates a mechanical reaction in the wheel well of the cart. In an instant the front wheels lock as a plastic shield drops down from the wheel well and covers the front tires. Interesting eh... well, maybe it's just me. But I digress.

Well, I pull up to the Bi-Lo parking lot where I park next to the cart coral. Walk in the store find the sour cream pay the cashier and leave the store to head back to my car, so I can go home and eat the delicious chili my wife made. But not so fast, I think that cashier may have short changed me... so I stop in the atrium with the automatic doors and count my money. Sure enough I was short changed 9 cents - not really worth fighting over so I'm about to leave when my eyes caught sight of the cart-wheel lock mechanism. Immediately the groaning question of "how does it work" buzzes through my mind.

I start out of the building diliberating over how this could work when I see an older gentleman who looks like he works at the Bi-Lo. This guy looked like he might know a thing or two about how things work since he had a name tag (though I couldn't tell from where), a jacket, a white shirt and some suspenders. Momentarily, I thought of asking him how it worked, but it started to dawn on me that I really didn't care all that much.

Somewhat disinterested I started walking to my parking space mindlessly looking off at the border of the Bi-Lo parking lot wondering "Is that the where the tire stops?" "What do baggers do when someone takes the cart past the line... way past the line?" "I wonder if the baggers like it or if they really hate having the wheel locks on there?" Amid my mental querry I walked up to the car, opened the door, and sat down. Something shook me from my mental wandering though - these seats feel wierd... in fact, why does my car smell like smoke?... uh oh... when did my interior go from grey cloth to beige leather?

ummm....

THIS ISN'T MY CAR!!! WHAT THE CRAP!!!

Now, how I ended up in someone elses car is beyond me, but I quickly realized that unless I pulled my butt up out of that car (and fast) I would be risking life and limb. I quickly walked over to my real vehicle and was astounded to find out that I managed to not only get in someone elses car but I got in a car 2 aisles away from my own vehicle, and the vehicle I got in resembled neither my own car or the subaru my wife drives!

Lord help me, I've finally lost my mind. Fortunately, that's all that was lost in this exchange... I really hate ghetto Bi-Lo!