There is a brand new Whole Foods here in Portland and it does not disappoint. It's located in a custom built building, the better to house it's obscenely abundant produce, comfortably wide aisles, super happy (if apparently a bit high) clerks, and sample stations at every turn. When I walked through the Portland Whole Foods for the first time, I knew I would love living in Maine (for that and many other reasons, of course).Anyway, visiting Whole Foods for me is like being a kid in a candy shop. I
could spend hours browsing, discovering fig spreads from Portugal or reading about the seventeen different root vegetables that are often confused with the Yam.Last week, however, while perusing the grapes, my Whole Foods experience suddenly took a very dark turn.
I had my head down picking up grape bunches and showing them to my husband, "Can we eat this much?"
No more than 5 feet away was a couple also perusing the grape mountain. With my head down I could only see the couple from the waist down. They were dressed in standard Portland gear - neutral colored pants, rain jackets in muted greens. It could have been two women, two middle aged men, two large teenagers for all I could see.
But then I caught a glimpse of something that is now forever seared into my brain. One of the individuals started caressing the other's rear.
At first I thought, "oh a little pat in public, we all get caught doing that now and again." But normally we giggle, blush, compose ourselves and move on. This couple had something else in mind.I'm still keeping my eyes on the grapes, not wanting to embarrass the couple... but I soon realize they have no intention of stopping, nor do they care that my husband and I can plainly see what is going on.
The caress not only continues, but it becomes more insistent, until finally the guy has his hand pretty much wedged up between his partner's butt cheeks. It looks like he's about to bend this women over on the grape mountain right then and there.
At this point, I can no longer control myself, my eyes must be bugging out of my head and I have to look up to see who they are.
I feign focus on Chris "do you think these are seedless?"
I discover that it's an average looking fifty-something male and his wife.
The guy is staring right at me, his hand still between the woman's legs. She is just standing there un-phased, contemplating green vs. red grapes. It's hard to tell if she truly doesn't notice what he's doing or if after thirty odd years she's learned not to encourage his randy ways with any sort of reaction. It is then that I realize the act is for my benefit.Smarty is catching all of this too, but is no help to me regarding seed status and instead stares back at me with similarly bugged eyes. At this point we're frozen in shock, and we just stare at each other for a moment. All the while the groping continues in plain view just feet from where we stand.
I then realize my children are witnessing this too and I move into action. I throw a pile of grapes into the cart, and gas it (or more like slowly steer the barge of a cart with the kiddie-bus attachment).
I spend the rest of the trip with my eyes down, shopping quickly to avoid the creepy couple, but coincidentally they're also looking for bulk nuts, soy milk and organic frozen waffles... go figure?... we can't get away from them!!
The last time something this creepy happened to me I was eight years old. A man in short-shorts (hey, it was the seventies) got the attention of me and a group of school age friends and wanted to show us "The Birds Nest." This entailed him hanging from the jungle gym in a manner that exposed his ball sack to us. We were old enough to know it was a forbidden behavior, but we let him show us repeatedly and laughed our little butts off until we decided he was a dirty pervert and ran home to tell our mothers. Of course they promptly called the police.
But what were we to do now? File a complaint at customer service, have them send a warning over the PA? ..."perverts in produce..."
It sounds innocent enough, I know. There was no nudity. No ball sack. At 37, my morals are already fully corrupted, so what was the harm really? Even so, it felt dirtier than the Birds Nest. Perhaps because of the vacant looking wife? Or because my babies were right there, innocent to the weirdness in their midst?
Of course we did nothing. But I won't forget that guys face, and this is not a big city. He could be our plumber, accountant, or god forbid the fifth grade social studies teacher. Hopefully he's tucked away somewhere safe where we'll never run into him again, like a church.
