The Waco Breakup List: Rreasons 11-13

Now, where were we? Ah yes, reasons I'm glad I don't live in Waco.

11) Trying to drive down Valley Mills in less than 15 minutes at any time of day is a nightmare.

12) Without fail, you will have to wait at least 45 minutes to get a table at any restaurant in town Friday through Sunday night.

13) GHETTO HEB. Story time.

So, for those of you who have never experienced the pure joy of shopping at the HEB on 12^th street, you should know that this grocery store is grungy, old, and quite possibly breaking at least 42 health codes at any given time. Really, it deserves its name, Ghetto HEB. Ask anyone. But everyone still shops there. Personally, I tried my best to only go in to snag a few refrigerator basics- but good intentions only go so far. And by that I mean I shopped there at least 2 times a week, just like every other Baylor student and native Wacoian who lived in the surrounding area.

One Wednesday night in the fall of 2009 I shamelessly stopped in to grab milk, bread, and orange juice (a must in my apartment). It was about 10:30pm, and I was a little bit nervous to shop alone, but I really wanted orange juice so I parked my car, clutched my purse, and went in. I grabbed a basket, avoided making eye contact with anyone, and went on my hurried little way.

OJ. Check. Milk. Check. (I really love checklists.) Now, all I needed was bread. Perfect, I thought, bread is right by the cash register. I’ll be out of here in 3 minutes tops. I cut up an aisle, and headed to the front left of the store.

So, there I was gazing longingly at the minimal selection of Orowheat bread when I heard a group of shrill, terrified screams from the front of the store. Out of instinct, I leaped into the nearest aisle and ducked behind someone’s shopping cart. I thought for sure someone had pulled a gun, the store was being held hostage, and my name would flash across the morning news, headlines reading, “Baylor girl held at gunpoint in grocery store, released after giving gunman purse, orange juice and bread.” (Please keep in mind that every Wacoian there didn’t even flinch during this process- they just looked at me like I was an idiot and kept shopping.)

I finally got up the nerve to peek up to the front of the store to see what was really going on.

Good news, no gunman.

Bad news, the store was being held hostage…

By a 20 pound RAT who had set up camp under cash register number four. No joke, the world’s largest rat waltzed across the floor like it owned the place. Baylor boys screamed like girls. Baylor Girls screamed like girls. Everyone from Baylor froze.

At this point I was about to throw up, and I looked around to my fellow shoppers to gage their reaction. One old man just laughed and said, “Well, we all gotta eat.” Then, some lady pushed her cart past me, looked at me with disgust, and said, “What? You never seen a rat before?”

No, ma’am. Not in a grocery store, thanks.

But should I be surprised? This is the chance I took. I promptly returned all of my items to the shelf and walked out, empty handed and mortified.

Yet, I shamefully returned to good old ghetto HEB a few weeks later and continued to shop there for the rest of the year. Stop judging me, I was really busy in college! Yes, ghetto HEB and I had a love-hate relationship. But I hated it more than I loved/tolerated it, thus making it lucky number 13 on my list.

I will not miss you ghetto HEB, I will not miss you.