new york's not-so-supermarkets

Many years ago when I came often to New York to visit, I was surprised by the size of the supermarkets here. I'm used to New England's sprawling Stop & Shops, expansive Market Baskets, and the tiniest store--Omni Foods--still had at least 10 aisles.

Well, in New York, things are different. Real estate is hard to come buy, especially in one solid wide-open chunk. Most of the food stores are crammed into tight corners, so shelf space is limited. So instead of 15 boxes of 15 different kind of cereal, you get 3 boxes of 5 different kinds of cereal--take it or leave it.

Because of the tight space, the markets get creative with their layout. You may go to the end of the aisle only to find a small doorway that looks like the portal to hell, when in reality it leads to canned goods and frozen vegetables. This takes some getting used to, because in this city you don't always want to be poking your nose in through suspicious doorways.

So now that I moved to my new apartment, I decided to check out the Gristede's Megastore near me. I thought "mega in comparison to what? the shoebox I used to shop in?" The store is on the basement floor of a building. You go down stairs to get in. There's a giant cow who greets you at the door and says something about having a moooooving experience. (I bet that gets REALLY annoying after a while.)

So I got past the cow, and grab a little hand basket. I saw aisles in front of me, and registers to my left. I made a mental note so I knew where to check out later. Then I walked down the aisle and found this whole huge store! A big deli, rows upon rows of food, I couldn't believe it. But, when I walked down the aisles, I realized that they all sort of looped into each other, and no matter which path I took, I couldn't find the eggs.

It felt a little like that movie Labyrinth, except without David Bowie in tights. Every time I turned around a new aisle appeared. I was certain little goblins were running around behind me swapping the baking needs with the cat food. Then this wormhole appeared, and I walked down it into this giant refrigerated palace. There were vegetables and lots of cheese and oh! eggs! I walked around a few times before realizing the only way out was the way I came in, so I clicked my heels together three times and woke up back at the deli, where the kind man was slicing cheese for me and offering a piece for free. "Mangia," he said. And mangia I did.

Thanks to the trail of breadcrumbs I left, I eventually found my way back to the checkout where I stood listening to the cow and his "mooooving experience." I was asked the standard questions: "one bag or two?" (which replaces the suburban query of "paper or plastic?"), followed by "debit or credit?" I carried my double-bagged goods out past the cow, up the stairs, and strolled back home feeling good about my time-travel to the Gristede's Megastore.