Getting Sick at Costco

For the record, I've never liked Costco. Yes, I know they've got killer prices on bulk diapers, tushy wipes and gallon size bottles of ketchup -- and yes, I've gleefully taken advantage of these benefits But on principle alone, I've never been a Costco fan. To me, it represents the worst of America -- strip malls and suburban sprawl, super sized, gluttonous packages of food that no single family can or should possibly consume.

So why you may ask, did I go to Costco this afternoon if it represents all that is evil about American consumption? I like their Rotisserie Chicken. For $4.99 it happens to be the bargain of the decade and it tastes really good. Also, I had a hankering for blueberries and mango. And somehow in March, Costco miraculously manages to provide crates of blueberries and cut up mango at bargain basement prices. So after taking my four-year-old son Jonah to karate today, my daughter Lexi and I all made a pilgrimage to Costco.

Sitting in the oversized shopping cart side by side, my kids had already consumed an obscene amount of unwashed blueberries before we walked the additional two miles from produce to the checkout line. Once we settled into line with 10,000 other Costco shoppers, Lexi, my two and a half year old, violently vomited half a crate of blueberries. Don't ask what compelled me to reach out with my bare hands to try to catch my daughter's vomit, but I did. Women watched me. I heard some gasp. I saw others turn away.

As I ran for paper towels, leaving my two kids in the cart, not one person said a word to me or even glanced sympathetically in my direction. Was it the sterility of Costco, the massive size and generic feel of the place that makes these shoppers complete strangers and intentionally oblivious to a mom in obvious need of help? I couldn't imagine this happening in a mom and pop shop.

After I stripped my daughter down to her underwear the only person who even acknowledged me and my kids was a security woman who as we were walking out looked my daughter up and down and then sniffed, "your daughter's going to be cold outside."