I could write a nice, flowery introduction but I’m just gonna jump in here.

Our Costco is right in front of the airport. As I was admiring some Bundt cakes while near a very large double decked pallet of marinara sauce, I started to get an ominous feeling of impending doom. I could hear the roar of a very close airplane engine coming overhead, and the entire store seemed to shake and rumble, at least in my head. If that plane misguided or crashed into the store, I realized I had absolutely no place to go. It’s a giant fucking open warehouse. I would be crushed to death by several hundred jars of lightly seasoned stewed tomato. EVERYTHING would become extremely deadly to be near. Granted, I would most likely be killed by the explosion of the plane first, but the idea of death by pasta sauce was disconcerting. When (I surmise) the plane safely landed in its proper and designated zone, I happened to look over at the vitamin section and noticed they sold wholesale 72 packs of Trojans. I mean, immediately my mind went to porn sets, or frat houses, or any party Condoleezza Rice was throwing, but that’s a lot of condoms to burn through. Although they would make fun valentines cards and you could write little messages on them in Sharpie. It might send the wrong message to elementary school kids, but maybe it wouldn’t? “You’re special Timmy! You exist because this didn’t! Happy Valentines!” That would also be a twisted birthday card.  

After navigating the miserable checkout and auditing process that is required to exit the facility, we managed escape with our lives. I always feel violated after leaving that store. On the drive back I explained to Jason my concern over the imminent danger of an airplane crash at Costco. He looked at me blankly and said they he had never, in his life, ever even remotely considered that as a possibility. I told him he was welcome. However, he did offer that they could put on my epitaph “She died as she lived, with a 72 pack of Trojans in one hand and a Bundt cake in the other.”