Twenty-Three Minutes: A Stop & Shop Odyssey

Twenty-three minutes. From Stop & Shop to my driveway. A distance my grandmother could have walked in fifteen. A trip I have made approximately four thousand times in my sixty-seven years on this island.

Twenty-three minutes.

Let me walk you through it.

The Parking Lot (Minutes 1-4)

I emerge from the store with my groceries. Two bags. Milk, bread, the usual. A rental Jeep with Connecticut plates is parked diagonally across two spaces. The driver is taking a photograph of... I'm not sure what. The shopping cart return, perhaps? The sky? Their own sense of entitlement?

I wait. They don't notice. I consider saying something. I do not say something. My mother raised me better, and also I'm too tired.

The Rotary (Minutes 5-11)

A word about rotaries: they are not complicated. You yield to traffic already in the circle. You signal when you exit. This is not advanced mathematics. This is not rocket science. This is, genuinely, one of the simplest traffic patterns human beings have ever devised.

And yet.

A gentleman in a rental SUV has stopped INSIDE the rotary to let someone in. This is incorrect. This is, in fact, the opposite of how rotaries work. I watch a small traffic jam bloom like algae in a tide pool.

Someone honks. Three people honk back. The gentleman looks confused. He probably summers here.

Main Street (Minutes 12-18)

The cobblestones, which have been here since before the Civil War, are being photographed by a woman who has stopped her car in the middle of the street. Not pulled over. Not parked. Just... stopped. To photograph rocks that have been photographed approximately seventeen billion times.

Her hazards are not on. She does not seem concerned.

I take a deep breath. I think about my blood pressure. I think about how my mother lived to ninety-four by simply not caring about tourists. I try not to care about tourists.

I care a little bit.

Orange Street (Minutes 19-22)

A family on rented bicycles has decided that the street is their personal bike path. All five of them. Spread across the entire road. Weaving gently. Having the time of their lives.

Good for them, honestly. They're on vacation. The weather is beautiful. They're making memories. I'm making a mental note to avoid this route until October.

My Driveway (Minute 23)

I pull in. The ice cream has not melted. This is a victory.

I remember when this trip took four minutes. I remember when you knew everyone you passed. I remember when Stop & Shop was the A&P and the parking lot was half the size and somehow that was enough.

But you know what? The island is still here. The milk is still cold. And in three months, I'll have these roads to myself again.

I'm not saying it was better before.

Actually, yes I am. It was better before. But that doesn't mean it's bad now. It just means I need to leave earlier.

And avoid rotaries in August.