So I go to the grocery store this week. I'll freely confess that I've been hating on our local grocery store for some time now. It used to be owned by a local family and it was superlative, as far as supermarkets go: spotless, great produce and meats, all kinds of unusual products from small makers, friendly staff. Then the family sold it to a huge national supermarket chain, and the chain promptly ruined it. It's filthy (instead of asking me if I need help carrying a loaf of bread to the car, could they mop the frickin' floor?!), they discontinued most of the interesting stuff to substitute Safeway generic crap instead, they have the place crowded with junk like plastic lawn chairs and ugly stuffed animals, and -- more to the point of this rant -- they let go of most of the friendly staff and hired really bizarre people.
I'm in line, and the bagboy (okay, he's really a bagman -- at least fifty years old if he's a day) starts talking about the Radnor Trail. The Radnor Trail is a brilliant and wonderful thing: the township purchased the land and rights-of-way to an old, unused railroad track, removed the rails, paved and landscaped it, and turned it into a recreational trail for bikers and walkers. So in the interest of making chitchat, I say something about how much I love the Radnor Trail.
The bagboy starts freaking out, saying things like "Are you crazy?! How could anyone say the trail is great?" I laughed nervously, and he said "What are you laughing at? It's not funny! Oh, sure, part of it is okay but have you ever seen the upper part? It's all fences, like a cattle chute! It's worse than Auschwitz!"
I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that likening a recreational bike trail to a Nazi concentration camp is an inapt (and inept) comparison.
Plus he put all my groceries in plastic instead of paper, and the orange juice bottle smooshed my bread.