Getting my beans back

My bag of pinto beans, patiently waiting for me to come back and retrieve them. Photo by David Lansing.

A few days ago I went to the local supermercado in Bucerias, Mega, to stock up on necessities. First stop was the produce department where I got limes for my margaritas, oranges for my juice in the morning, tomatoes, onions, jalapenos, and cilantro for fresh pico de gallo, avocados for guacamole, and, of course, a bag of pinto beans. Then I went off and got everything else I needed from flank steak for arrachera to pan de muerto for my dessert.

I get up to the check-out counter and start grabbing stuff out of my basket: grapefruits, tangerines, zukes, poblano peppers. Wait…I didn’t pick out any grapefruit. Or tangerines. Or zukes or poblanos or any of the other fruit and veggies in the basket. Where’s my pineapple? Where’s my cantaloupe? Where the hell are my limes?

Obviously, while running around the produce department, I’d grabbed the wrong shopping cart. Or someone grabbed mine. In any case, Nothing I’d selected–from avocados to beans–is in my cart. “Lo siento,” I sheepishly tell the checker as I hand over the big bag of grapefruit, telling her I don’t want it. Same for everything else. Very embarrassing.

So this morning I go back to Mega. And as I wander around the produce department, I notice that on top of the mound of limes is a plastic bag holding just about the exact number of limes I’d bagged up a few days ago. Same with the tomatoes. And oranges. And there atop the tub of pinto beans is the plastic bag of beans I’d secured days ago. Like an abandoned dog, just waiting for me to come back and claim it.