'Living under the crown'

By Ed Piper

"Griff, you should have your conch shell."

Tim Griffen, chatting with the second person in line behind him outside Vons, was startled for an instant. "Hey, Ed, what's going on?"

I had pulled up at 6:42 a.m. to take advantage of this particular Vons' Thursday 7-9 a.m. seniors shopping period.

On three previous attempts at two other area supermarkets, I had struck out on wipes, then toilet paper.

We weren't desperate, but it would be nice to score a hit.

As I rolled my cart into the seventh slot in line on the walkway here in University City, the woman in front of me became edgy as I continued my conversation with "Griff". She turned and said, "Six feet," eyeing me out of the side of her glance.

"I'm trying to do the best I can," I offered, having not had this said to me in the near-two weeks of increasingly restrictions on contact due to the coronavirus.

As Tim and I continued our chat about his son, Johnny, a lineman for La Jolla High's football team, I relaxed. This was, by far, to be the best visit of the four this week to outlets for products. Merely interacting with someone I know about something I enjoy worked magic.

However, a few minutes later, I noticed the poor lady in front of me had moved over, away from me, leaving her cart in line while getting more distance.

I told Tim this later in the store, as we looked for items in the near-empty supermarket. He works in healthcare and said he knew the virus restrictions were coming before the rest of us did. "Different people handle it differently," he commented.

I felt for the woman in front of me. My intention wasn't to make her more uncomfortable.

Two days before, on a day promoted to patronize local restaurants with takeout and delivery orders to give them a much-needed boost as they struggle under the stay-at-home mandate from Governor Gavin Newsom, I had a young woman walk right next to me as she went to the restroom. I had made a point of standing six feet away from anyone else waiting for a takeout order. I didn't feel too comfortable.

I asked Tim what time he got to Vons. "Twenty minutes ago." That would be about 6:20. It was a cold, rainy early morning. He said that a store employee told him the day before that doors would open at 6:45. They didn't.

An employee came out at five minutes to seven and set up yellow cones connected with yellow emergency tape to border the waiting line outside the store.

Tim had been waiting with his shopping cart, right near the double doors. By 7 a.m., there were about five more carts behind me, making a dozen.

An employee called out, "Are there seniors in line? They can go in."

Tim had to wait. I was the third senior with a cart in the door.

Having never been in the store, I didn't know where tissue was. I followed two women in front of me. One seemed to know where she was going, and headed to the eastern end of the market, maybe eight too 10 aisles from the western entrance. (The eastern entrance was closed.)

There, near the far end of the aisle, were about 10 packages of toilet tissue paper, a dozen small rolls in each.

After grabbing one of about four remaining paper towel packages on the way down that aisle, I proceeded to secure my precious merchandise.

Signs up, which I didn't see until later, specified, "One item only" on each of the toilet tissue, face tissue, and paper towel sections.

"Griff" and I ran into each other a few minutes later, after he was let in. He was on the phone for a while, I assume conferring with family on what items to get. Then we chatted in an aisle, maintaining our distance of more than six feet, for some time.

This was, by far, my least stressful--in fact, highly enjoyable--trip to a market the last four weekdays. Vons Coronado was out of wipes Monday and Tuesday, despite the manager's information to me Monday morning that they would receive a shipment Monday evening for Tuesday's opening. (Every store is out of wipes, that I know of.)

Then, Ralph's Mission Center was an adventure in competition. When the daily seniors-only half hour opened at 7 a.m. (I arrived at 6:45 to have a cart ready), as the 12th cart in line, I failed to secure toilet tissue.

Someone jumped line with her cart, plus a few without carts were free to walk in as the doors opened there. By the time I even figured out what and where "aisle 9" was, I watched as fellow seniors grabbed the few paper towels and toilet tissue there was on the shelves.

Wow, this was like watching La Jolla's football team. Highly-trained, determined, experienced. These people knew what aisle the paper was on.

Too competitive for me.

Unlike Thursday with Tim Griffen, I was worn out after the experience. No euphoria that day.

Nine school days, so far, of cancelled classes due to the coronavirus situation ("corona" meaning "crown" in Spanish).