Don't, DO NOT, get in the way of two women on a manic late-night tampon run. I and my BFF were on such a run Saturday night at a grocery store in Eureka Springs. Small-town outposts of chain grocery stores are never laid out in a way that makes sense. (Clearly, the shiny Chenal Kroger-plex has spoiled me.) And perhaps in a nod to gentler days, when no one said the word "pregnant" out loud, a woman's menstrual process was referred to as her "monthly bill," and the somewhat euphemistically-named "sanitary napkin" was de rigueur, there was no sign above the aisles to use as a handy reference. There was a sign for "health and beauty aids," but that apparently refers to shampoo and deodorant exclusively. The two of us darted from aisle to aisle as if we were on a special ops mission. "You go down to produce and double back!" "I'll take aisles one through five!"
It occurred to me that I should perhaps try to look for diapers and such, because tampons and other "sanitary items" are ALWAYS located near baby gear, have you noticed? And the packages are easier to see in a smash-and-grab operation, when time is of the essence and you have a testy husband waiting outside in an idling car. So we expanded our search to include Pampers. We had to canvas the joint a couple of times - where were they hiding this stuff? Dammit, there are females in Eureka Springs, I've seen 'em. And they've gotta be getting their Tampax somewhere.
Finally, heading into the aisle marked for chips and nuts, I hit the motherlode. I called my friend for backup, and we went in. There sat the aisle of baby supplies (diapers, sippy cups, etc.), "feminine products", and - well, I guess they figure, while you're in the neighborhood - personal lubricant.
My friend sized this all up very succinctly. "Oh, look," she observed, "all the vagina-related items are together!" Convenient! We grabbed a box of tampons apiece and triumphantly headed for the checkout, giddy that we not only found what we'd spent way too long looking for, but had also made an astute product placement observation.
When we reached the checkout aisle, the young female cashier was engaged in a conversation with the equally young and somewhat sheepish male grocery bagger. It became pretty clear pretty fast that our girl's out of this poor guy's league. He was having some trouble pickin' up what she was puttin' down, if you know what I mean. And then here come two broads, each bearing a box of tampons, giggling their asses off. So he didn't have a chance from the jump, poor kid.
When he skulked off, we noted the young cashier's curious expression and gleefully shared our observation with her about the vagina aisle. She agreed that this was universally true, and shared our joy in finally figuring out a sure-fire method for quickly finding tampons or lube in any store in the civilized world without having to stop for directions. High fives were exchanged.
"But there's one thing we don't get," I confessed. "Why stick all that stuff with the chips?"
Without missing a beat, Our Girl offered this explanation: "Well, when you're in your period, you know you're gonna want some chips, so they put them right there."
Genius.
When we piled our giggling butts back in the car, my friend's husband didn't ask us what we were laughing about, which was probably smart. It's like there's an unspoken rule: what happens on a tampon run, stays on a tampon run. (That is, unless one of us has a blog.) But in my defense, I consider this a public service, both to women on a mission in a strange store in a strange town, and to men who may find themselves sent into a territory intimidating and unknown. Your reluctance to ask for directions is well-documented; let me save you the trouble.
Look for the diapers. And failing that, look for chips.
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