A Real (Market) Basket Case

What do the following songs all have in common:

"Welcome to the Jungle" by Guns n' Roses

"Circus" by Brit Spears

"Animal" by Def Leppard

"Let's Go Crazy" by Prince

Give up? Well, let me tell ya.

Like all artists, Axl, Brit, Prince, and our good friend Joe, are forever in search of that elusive muse to inspire their next top-selling hit song. In this case, all of these seemingly unrelated songs have one commonality. You see, they were all written in reference to Somerville Ave's own Demoula's Market Basket supermarket.




Yes, that's right. All of these songs were inspired by the daily shit show that unfurls in the aisles, the produce section, the deli counter, and the cash registeres of Market Basket.

Sure, the prices are lower, and the international groceries are fabulous (and can be had at a fraction of the price of these pretentious swanky, "international groceries" like Cardullo's in Harvard Square), but you WILL risk life and limb if you venture beyond the front doors and into its hallowed (and sawdust covered) halls.

Nobody escapes Market Basket without a few bumps, bruises, and minor skin lacerations. Make no mistakes, these injuries are sustained on a GOOD day at Market Basket.

You see, shopping at Market Basket brings out the basest, most primal survial instincts of the customers. You WILL use that shopping cart as a weapon to get at that last mango. You WILL jeopardize the life of an infant in a nearby shopping cart if if means getting that last packet of wholesale family sized chicken gizzards, goddamn it!

If another shopper gets his arm, leg, hand, or foot in your way...well, he's just ASKING you to go ahead and perform amputation surgery with the aid of your very unsterile shopping basket, jar of pimentos, and bag of spicy pork rinds as your surgical tools.

Who the hell needs two feet anyway?

Actually, the one-legged shoppers are at a distinct advantage at Market Basket. They get to use the shopping CARS with the baskets attached to the front. There's no stopping them when they see those fermented fish heads. If peg-leg wants to get at that last packet of goat entrails in the packaged meat section, he'll run your ass down without so much as a second thought. You'll be peeling yourself up off the floor like a flattened pancake cartoon character. (Think Bugs Bunny getting crushed by a steam roller and then peeling his now one-dimensional body off the middle of the road).

I've found myself in Bug's position a few times, but hey, you gotta give Peg-Leg a wink for pluck!

Anyway, today was like a greatest hits at Market Basket. I hadn't been there in a while, so I was delighted with my exceptional timing in getting there when all of the typical Market Basket shenanigans were going down. Let me share them with you here:

The produce section was particularly crowded. It must be tropical fruit harvesting time in Latin America and Asia because the guavas, mangos, coconuts, and pineapples filled the fruit bins to capacity. It was pretty packed in there. I guess I'm not the only one who likes a good mango.




Questionable parts of several non-traditional (for American consumers, anyway), were on full display in the packaged meat section. Llamas, goats, muskrats, hedgehogs, emus.....each of those animals had some shady body part, organ, appendage, or antler on sale for your dining pleasure. I felt so boring and American when I reached into the refrigerator case for my chicken breast tenderloins. I could feel the disapproving stares of my Salvadorian, Mongolian, German, and Russian shoppers boring in on me as I chose this most vanilla of protein options. They seemed to be willing me to try the Sea Lion fillets. I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

Two shoppers were engaged in a heated, passionate brawl over their place in line. One of them was 99th and one of them was 100th. It was hard to say who got there first. The lines wrap all the way to the back of the store, and so I think #99 thought #100 was in the deli line, but #100 was sure she had clearly staked her claim in the 99 position by placing her newborn baby there while she ordered her pig skin at the deli counter.

All of the interesting groceries were labeled in 19 languages, none of which were English, and only about a third of which actually used the Roman alphabet.

The lines were moving slow as molasses because each customer was paying with his own nation's currency. Some people were even trying to pay with home rememdies they'd concocted in thier bathroom sinks. I'm pretty sure the cashier took the pesos, rubles, euros, and witch hazel balm.

Live animals were running around the store. No, they had not escaped from the meat department, but rather were the family pets of the other shoppers. Chickens? Turkeys? Antelope? Sure, come one come all to Market Basket!

Some rug rat dropped and smashed a foul smelling syrup, prompting the "Clean up on Aisle 3" distress call over the PA.

As you can see, all the MB Delights were in store for me today! It was great.

Oh, I almost forgot to mention that it took me longer to get the hell out of the front door than it did to do my whole shopping order. For some reason, a shopping foray into MB seems to put people into somes slow-moving zombie mode. I was stuck behind Herman Munster, Lurch, and Cousin It, none of whom could pick up the pace!

When I got out of there, I put my face to the sun and wept tears of relief at my newfound freedom. It was kinda like the last scene in that "Midnight Express" movie. You know the one...where the guy escapes from a horrendous Turkish prison after about 18 years of incarceration. He runs the hell out of there, and the camera freezes on him as he leaps into the air, a newly free man savoring his liberty.

OK, so my bags were heavy and I had a couple of glass bottles in there, so I didn't leap, but you get my point.