When I was finished, I went to the check out line. There were hundreds of people waiting in line. The scene was surreal, color washed out and a grinding, Kafka-esque energy to the it. People were waiting for hours to get out, their supplies piled up on the floor in front of them or in baskets. It looked more like refugees trying to get out of a border crossing.
I set my supplies and groceries down and scanned the poeple’s faces looking for my family. Up ahead, I spotted Martin and the kids. Relieved, I turned to a woman standing behind me and asked her to watch my things. She just blankly stared at me and I walked ahead to talk to Martin. He was exasperated with the wait. We agreed on a meeting place after we got through the check out. I went back to my place in line and saw my supplies had been stolen. Angry, I accused the woman behind me, but she shook her head. I went through the line, looking in people’s bags. They tried to push me away or scowl at me, but to no avail. My rage grew in intensity. Finally I turned around and raised up my arms. I screamed as loud as I could, ” I AM SO FRUSTRATED!”
Security guards jumped me, throwing me to the floor. Then I awoke.