Costco and the ocean: More alike than you think

My feelings for Costco are complicated. I'm, at once, full of respect for its greatness and its enormity, yet humbled by its potential for disaster. In many ways, it is like the ocean, deep and mysterious. (The ocean freaks me out, by the way, for all of these reasons).

Here, I reflect on how Costco is like the ocean.

The ocean and Costco are both vast vessels. Walking into that familiar warehouse, I am continually filled with awe. So many products. So many people. Shelves that go up farther than the eye can see. Somewhere, far above, is the ceiling, where small fans circulate air miles above my head. It is vast. I am but a wee guppy.

The ocean and Costco are, at times, dangerous places. You go in, planning to get a massive package of toilet paper...and leave with a folding table, a 10-gallon jug of hummus, an ipod nano and a pair of glasses. Not normal. No one is safe. Hide your wallet. *cue theme from Jaws*

The ocean and Costco are subject to the whims of Mother Nature. Storms drive the masses away from Costco, but beware if you go as the rain finally lets up. EVERYONE AND THEIR MOTHER WILL BE THERE.

The ocean and Costco both have fish.

The ocean and Costco both have tidal waves. (At Costco, these occur regularly every Saturday and Sunday.)

The ocean and Costco both require a lot of energy to navigate. By the end of a shopping trip, you are just trying to dead-man's float-it to the register.

Ways in which Costco is not like the ocean.

Parking. In the ocean, there is no where to park your car. At Costco, you can park your car, albeit in a galaxy far, far away.

Free samples. In the ocean, there are no free samples. At Costco, expressionless women will prepare free samples in small paper cups for the vultures to descend upon. There will be no napkins.

Consumerism. In the ocean, you can not buy anything. At Costco, you can not not buy anything. You will buy a barge-load. This has been decreed.

This is an original post to DC Metro Moms Blog. KC occasionally flaunts her sleep-deprivation-inspired posts at Where's My Cape? and Mothers in Medicine. Please have pity.