Mega

A deli lady at Mega lures me over to sample her spicy chorizo sausages. Photo by David Lansing.

They could be confused for nurses or dental assistants, these ladies all in white with their little caps and surgical masks, but they are the deli ladies at Mega, the supermercado in Bucerias. It’s the best part of the store for me. They stand around, five or six deep, in the octagonal deli bullpen, pitching their wares to anyone who gets within hearing distance.

“Mr. Handsome,” they call out to me when I am still 20 feet away. “Come by and taste a little of my ham.” They are like hookers hanging out of the windows of a brothel, doing all they can to make a sale. They temp you with samples: a thin slice of jamon, a square piece of queso blanco, an olive or two or perhaps a pickle. Sometimes they go too far. They grill up spicy chorizo sausages and dare you to pass by the delicious aroma without sampling. And if you sample, you will buy. Just like I did.

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.