Moving through the ailes, searching for storage boxes, my mind begins to wander. The cart slowly fills but my focus shifts elsewhere, by the time I near the checkout stand my mind and eyes are drawn to the goal beyond the non-smiling (we are in Germany after all) woman in blue and gold at the register. I glance at the clock and search for the shortest line, Must get there before they close!
The woman scans my purchases with agonizing slowness, but finally… we’re through! We dash into line, eagerly shelling out a euro each for one hot dog and one tiny, dry calzone that I immediately smother in ketchup and shove in my mouth.
Mind blank except for chewing, fully concentrating.
Ketchup-slathered, powdery-dry dough packet: IN
Ikea snack bar, I am your bitch.