snow daze
a snowy week in Middle Tennessee
Sorry, haters. I didn’t spell days with a z to be cute or irreverent. And I don’t have an obsession with Zaxby’s, although as chickens go, they’re a giant upgrade over Chik-Fil-A and KFC. And not just because they have zensational zalads to go with their chicken fingerz. That said, if I’m making a run for fast food chicken, my short list stops at one...” love that chicken from Popeye’s.” Love is a strong word for it, but it’s good enough to overlook the fact that its namesake was a spinach guy.
Oddly enough, spinach is one of the things I’m about to write about. Along with all the other fresh produce at my neighborhood Publix. But let’s back up for a minute to daze. Today, it’s a descriptive term for the inexplicable stupor... Another descriptive term, and arguably a better one... but snow stupor, while nicely alliterative, doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as well as snow daze does. At least not for this piece. No, this is the stupor that afflicts people when it snows in Nashville. In colder states, the stupor might be comparable to zombies during a zombie apocalypse. But the Nashville zombies aren’t after flesh. They’re all-in on bread, milk, and eggs. Or so I had always heard.
It’s been a week or so since the big snow hit town. When I say, “big snow,” I’m talking big for Nashville. We saw about eight inches where I live, an amount that evokes ridicule from my friends back in Western New York. But here, eight inches might just as well be the end of days.
When it’s about to snow here in the south—whether it’s eight inches or two—the zombies flock to the grocery stores. Truth be told, I had seen the cars during past snowfalls, but I always resolved to stay as far away as possible because I expected hysteria akin to Black Friday shopping before the internet. Or at least before Amazon. But this time... this time, I decided to join the masses. I didn’t need groceries, but my curiosity was craving for a snack. I wondered if I might just find dogs and cats living together right there in the bread aisle.
I confess, I was slightly disappointed when I walked into Publix and made my habitual right turn toward the produce area. I wanted to see a demolition derby of shopping carts, filled with all the items you only buy when the world is ending. But nope. There was none of that. In fact, if I had needed produce, I would’ve had my pick of anything I wanted, including the aforementioned spinach. Apparently, fresh food is entirely unnecessary during an impending polar vortex.
But while there were no people—undead or otherwise—jousting with zucchini and piling potatoes into their carts, there was a discernable buzz at the opposite end of the store. I could feel my heartbeat click into a new gear as I got closer. I apparently posed no threat to the mob because I had neither cart nor basket, and they let me weave through them toward ground zero. You see, at this particular Publix, the eggs, milk, and bread are all in the same place, which is super-convenient for people with French toast on the menu, or those who want to avoid this kind of chaos. But it’s a fucking nightmare for everyone else.
I decided to take a detour through the paper products, which interested no one. Strange, right? People expected to be shut in just like during COVID, but no one thought to pick up some extra toilet paper. Maybe that’s what the extra loaves are for! Nonetheless, I rounded that last turn into the bread aisle and what, to my wondering eyes should appear? No, wait. Wrong story.
The bread aisle was truly something to behold. True to local lore, the shelves were almost completely empty. Everything from rice cakes to English muffins was deep in someone’s shopping cart. Sure, there were people scavenging for milk and eggs too, but bread products were clearly the hot item on this snowstorm eve.
The thing I found puzzling, tough, was the number of shoppers waiting for more, even while their carts were brimming with carbs. I feared for the safety of the poor bastard in the back who drew the short straw and had to restock the bread. I hung out a few extra minutes in case someone needed to run for help, but thankfully it was an orderly crowd.
It’s been a week since that day and the snow’s still here. Because it’s been unseasonably cold and our snow removal system is more or less the sun. It’s supposed to get back above freezing tomorrow, and this week’s rain will surely wash away any evidence of the snow and ice. Inside Publix, the bread shelves have been fully replenished and the world is back to its normal brand of crazy. But now, with my curiosity’s hunger satisfied, I can’t help but wonder what people did with all that extra bread last week. Freeze it for the next snow? Truckload of PB&Js (it occurs to me I didn’t check the peanut butter aisle)? Line it up along windowsills and door thresholds to block the draft? Damned if I know. What do you think?
