Costco In Brooklyn (what to do during alternate side parking)

I just got back from Costco. No, it's not exactly like going to a toy store on Christmas Eve, but I am so tired I am typing this with my eyes half mast. Don't get me wrong, I love shopping at Costco. I buy my glucosamine, saline sloution, shrimp, laundry detergent, etc. there. But Christmas presents?

Today I went to look for a Christmas present that I can't name here, so let's just call it the box set of Englebert Humperdinck. It wasn't there, which didn't surprise me because Englebert is sold out online. So I go downstairs to checkout and I wait on line, which is kind of like bumper cars with carts on Ellis Island, then check out my few things and head over to some customer service counter. The frazzled lady looked up my item and told me there were three box sets of Englebert Humperdinck left, so I take my cart and make my way back to the second floor. Which is like on the other side of the Continental Divide.

It's high noon and Costco is mobbed by now. And here I am like a moron frantically digging through enormous boxes of merchandise, looking for the last three copies of Englebert Humperdinck. The boxes are dusty and I'm allergic so I have itchy eyes and I'm breaking out in hives. Clearly the most attractive shopper in the store. I have to throw my jacket in my cart because I'm sweating up a storm by now. On cue, every customer within twenty feet of me suddenly thinks I work there, and get indignant when I look up from my mad search to reply that no, I do not work there. Like I'm lying to them.

After about half an hour, and a few fallen boxes later, I leave without finding Englebert. I drive back home, slip the car onto the right side of the street, and take me and my things up five flights of stairs. And then I think, maybe some things are worth full price?

photo by aslworking2 via flickr