“I’m heading out for some groceries this evening. Would you like to join in?”.
I hit send on my phone and sat back in nervous anticipation. What would she say? I wondered aloud. We only matched a few hours ago on Tinder, a dating app and I had already made the bold move of proposing an in-person meeting. A date of sorts. At the goddamn grocery store! What was I even thinking – the phone buzzed.
“I’d like that” she replied and quickly added “tbh, I’m already excited about it!”
This is what our lives have come to I suppose.
I paced up and down the living room heavily burdened with the question of what to cook for lunch the next day. A couple of months ago, the Prime Minister of Luxembourg had announced a state of emergency and the shutdown of all non-essential activities. It signaled the arrival of a new virus and with it a new way of living - cooped up indoors all day googling banana bread recipes with the most exciting part of the day being a walk around the block. A trip to the grocery store quickly became the hallmark of a ‘happening weekend’. So popular indeed that the Prime Minister had to intervene again - “Going to Cactus shouldn’t be an excursion” he implored.
In all fairness, the supermarket is the new nightclub.
It was 6:30pm when I showed up at the corner of Avenue de la liberté and Rue de Strasbourg. As I headed down the road, I discovered a long queue outside the shop. People were waiting in single-file, hoping to get in. I walked up past the queue to the entrance for a quick recce and saw a broad-shouldered security guy dressed in all black. He stood guard outside the sliding door with a stoic, unmoving face. He saw me approaching him and motioned against it.
“I’m sorry, we are at capacity” he said. “Get back in the line and wait”.
We are at capacity! The last time I heard that was at 2am on a cold January night outside Gotham, except now I was standing beneath a green signboard that said ‘Cactus Marche’. What better logo for a supermarket stocked with food and water than a prickly desert plant that grows in arid, dry regions. I chose to respectfully retreat to the back of the line when I heard the loud protestations of a young man. He had waited his turn in the line but the security guy wouldn’t let him enter.
“But I need to get in...all my friends are inside”
“You can’t get in dressed like that” the security guy said, pointing to the man. He was missing a face mask.
Of course they have a dress code policy now! A bouncer, restricted capacity and a dress code. What next? A DJ dressed in a lab coat atop the boulangerie counter belting out billboard hits through the PA system?
“Hey! Where are you?” a text pops up on my screen, jolting me back to reality.
“I’m in the line outside... They’re at capacity” I replied.
A few moments later, a woman sporting a black mask walked up to me.
“Hey” she said.
Strangely enough and despite the physical concealment, I could tell she was smiling. She could probably tell I was smiling too.
Inside the supermarket there were additional staff members dressed in black security uniforms eyeing the group of ‘revelers’. Every time a man clumsily drifted close to a woman, a staff member stepped in to restrain and warn against close contact. Except the man wasn’t drunk, merely looking for vegan mayo. Half an hour later, the cashier announced “We are closing in a few minutes” and customers rushed their pushcarts to get the last orders in. In my head, I imagined the DJ playing the last song of the night.
On our way out, past the cashier, I couldn’t help but notice the bold text advert on the wall behind. It read ‘Smoke Local’ and featured a slew of cigarette brands –Ducal, Elixyr, Maryland. The Luxemburgish penchant for locally sourced, organic produce had now spilled over to even tobacco.
Like you wouldn’t mind smoking a cigarette as long as it was rolled in Ettelbruck. Like as if somehow, the sustenance of the local economy supersedes your own individual welfare. Perhaps, despite the irony, it offered a hint on how to navigate the times ahead.
And just like at the nightclub, I walked out after spending way more than I intended to.
“We should do this again” she said.
I couldn’t tell if she was into me or fresh zucchinis.
“Yeah, we should,” I smiled in agreement.
