|Old-style Walk of Shame depicted by Elizabeth Banks in the movie|
It's not that Walk of Shame from the olden days - the dirty stop-out walk from the taxi to the door with the neighbours watching. It's worse than that. Much, much more humiliating than that.
In our town it's (cue: da da da dah! ominous chords) leaving the store with your groceries in paper bags.
Here in Oakland the laws have changed. Disposable plastic bags have been banned and if you turn up to a grocery store counter without your own bags you are charged 10cents per paper bag.
I have spent a small mortgage on an assortment of reusable bags. But why do they never make that 20 feet from our (solar-powered electric) car to the store?
As soon as the shop assistant has to say: "Do you need bags?" and you mumble "yes" you are marked. You are the pariah who forgot their bags. You are the one who's killing the earth - the problem not the solution.
I don my sunglasses, check left, check right and I run my cart back to the car. I know one day they will be waiting.
The dolphins and the bees and the endangered yellow coneflowers will rise up. They will flap you will their flippers and sting you with their stingers and leave yellow pollen on your white jeans. Because you are the devilwoman!
Arriving at the store today I muttered madly to myself: "I have to put a sign on the steering wheel." That sign would of course read "Remember the Bags!" But then I would need a sign on the dashboard "Look at the sign on your steering wheel!" And then I would....
And then I went into the store. Ooops, I've done it again...
|The new style Walk Of Shame|
(By the way, on Friday I'm going to do a wedding post - 'tis the season for remembering nuptuals. Please, please send me one of your wedding photos with two or three lines about the funniest, happiest or most annoying thing on the day - to firstname.lastname@example.org)