Save bi-lingual "Wet Floor" signs
by Piso Mojado
copyright 2011 by Piso Mojado
Smashwords Edition
Save bi-lingual "Wet Floor" signs
I was in a very large supermarket recently when I witnessed a terrible event. A woman had a nervous breakdown a few feet away from me.
She was a slight woman with a disinterested expression, and I suppose this added to the horror. One expects that, when a person goes berserk, that individual should have a face and body language that reflects that rage. This woman seemed emotionally unqualified to be a nut job.
I have tried in every way to find some excuse for the woman's behavior, some rational explanation for the sudden and violent right turn this woman made with her shopping cart. I really want to believe that she simply skidded or that her brakes and steering completely failed. That, however, seems unlikely. Let me set the scene for you, reader, so you can judge her actions for yourself.
In this particular supermarket all but fruits and vegetables are stacked in shelves on narrow aisles. The produce department is not so neatly arranged, although it requires a quarter of the space allotted for foodstuffs in that massive store. The bananas and apples and broccoli and such are displayed in waist-high bins that are in long diagonal rows. It's always the busiest area of the store, and the reason I describe it in detail is because its openness allowed so many witnesses to the frail woman's crime. Had she exploded on some aisle, less than a dozen people would have been amazed. Because she lost her composure in the produce department, I am assured that there are a large number of witnesses to her unprovoked assault.
I was one of the people closest to her when she suddenly charged the "Wet Floor / Piso Mojado" sign.The sign was on the endcap, pushed out of the way, not blocking anyone's progress in any way. It's not as if someone had just washed the floor recently and had left the yellow plastic reminder. smack dab in the middle of the aisle. It wasn't that way at all and, anyway, that still wouldn't have excused the woman's craziness. She was travelling down one of the widest aisles in the store. She could have been driving an eighteen-wheeler and not hit anything.
The sign was an inch away from the side of the last bin in a diagonal row. It was not in anyone's way. It was doing no one any harm. Some janitor had decided, "I'm just going to have to do the floor again tomorrow at 3 A.M. so why should I carry this sign back to the storeroom? I'll just leave it at the end of the aisle. What difference will it make?"
What difference? You, madam or sir, allowed some tiny assassin to charge the "Wet Floor / Piso Mojado" at full speed and to terrify a crowd of grocery shoppers. Had you returned the sign safely to the storeroom none of us would have been slightly scarred for life, forcefully reminded again of the occasional unreasonableness of life in America in 2011. Being an onlooker that day served as another reminder of how quickly our focus must sometimes switch from hurriedly completing a routine chore to computing quickly the best survival strategy against some maniac.
I don't believe the accelerator suddenly stuck on the woman's vehicle. This was no accident.
Full speed. That lady hit the "Wet Floor / Piso Mojado" sign as if she had worked three jobs to get it through pharmacy college and then had just found out it was cheating on her. The grocery cart hitting the sign hitting the end of the banana bin made a loud crash. Everyone in the produce area, including me, froze in shock and, if they were not already looking in the direction of the bang, turned toward the sound. The woman, still impassive,eyes staring straight ahead, body moving at a normal speed, slowly left the area. She didn't even offer a shrug of explanation.
No one else moved. No one else made a sound.
Why? Why? Why? Why had she suddenly swerved clear across the aisle and smashed her cart into the "Wet Floor / Piso Mojado" sign?
You're instinctively asking yourself that question. Imagine if you were in my shoes! Imagine if you were me, Piso Mojado. You'd surely feel singled out for criticism. How many artists named "Wet Floor" or "Piso Mojado" are there in the United States? Who else could she be targeting?
Her road rage was scary, if you're me or some painter named "Wet Floor".
I wanted to run after her and ask her reasons for running over the "Piso Mojado" sign. I'd never seen the woman in my life, and I've never attended even a day of pharmacy school. But I didn't try to question her. I didn't try to chase her down for an explanation. I was afraid.
Unfortunately, I have a lifetime of bad experiences with irrational people. Once I was in a grocery store checkout line and a boy of about twelve years old kept jabbing me in the back with a grocery cart. There was no one in back of him pressuring him forward so there was no reason that he needed to crowd me. Twice I turned around and gave him a disapproving look. That.s all. I just looked at him in an ugly way. I thought he would take the hint. The second time I looked at him, a middle-aged woman came running from about twenty yards away, screaming an obscenity and then shouting, "That's my son." She was already dialing the police. Five officers arrived in less than two minutes (truly) and, without hearing my side of the story, lectured me, "That's a kid. Don't you feel ashamed? Why don't you feel ashamed of yourself?" The woman was screaming, "I'm a lawyer. He spit at me. That's a felony. He's committed a felony."
I doubt if the police believed her, but they had that "People-are-unfair-to-me-at-least-twice-a-month-so-I'm-going-to-make-you-feel-what-I-feel" look in their eyes. The officers immediately agreed with the lawyer. Luckily, the grocery store check-out woman did not. The lawyer never calmed down, but the officers evidently were discouraged by the check-out woman's truthfulness. They gave me one more half-hearted warning and then left. Did I say that there were five of them who showed up almost immediately? And a supervisor who arrived later?
No one ever apologized to me. I believe they would have convicted me of a felony, if they could have. I could have gone to jail for giving a twelve-year-old a well-deserved dirty look.
So you can see why I was afraid to engage the woman who had run over the "Wet Floor / Piso Mojado" sign. Many of you reading this have probably also had numerous nightmare experiences with lawyers or drama queens or drama queen lawyers. You understand why I didn't pursue the crazy woman. What if she sued me for watching her? Or for swallowing? She could have made up any number of lies, and what are the odds someone is going to go out of their way to correct some injustice toward a stranger? Life can at times be this outrageous. One must be careful.
But I was wounded. Why? Why? Why? Why target the "Piso Mojado" sign?
Nor did I try to get statements from the other grocery shoppers. I wanted to, but they would have thought it odd if I asked them for a name and address and a few descriptive paragraphs. They'd be right. They were just shrugging off what they'd just seen. It's not like it's the first weird behavior any of us had observed. Moreover, they didn't have any dog in the hunt, unless (please let it be so) one of the frozen-in-place witnesses happened to be the aforementioned painter named "Wet Floor".
No. No, of course, I couldn't line up witnesses immediately after the incident, even though this story is so bizarre that it badly needs corroboration. I don't want to come across as someone exaggerating a minor accident. I know I badly need independent verification of the crazy woman's (no offense, ma'am, in case you decide to apologize) behavior.
If I had asked for statements just after the woman used her cart as a deadly weapon, it could have led to trouble for me. I've now decided I have to use a safer technique--a public appeal for verification of my side of the story. I can only hope some shoppers will read this article and step forward. "Yes, I was in Ann Arbor at the Meijer store on Carpenter Road and Ellsworth late on the afternoon of October 18th, 2011. I saw that little woman deliberately run over the "Wet Floor / Piso Mojado" sign. It wasn't in the middle of the aisle. It wasn't in her way. It was no accident, and there was no reason for that woman to try to assault the sign."
If you were a witness, I'd appreciate your courageous testimony.
I do sometimes make up incredible exaggerations--I'm a humor writer and hyperbole is often my tool--so I need you to tell exactly what you saw and heard. Thank you in advance.
Why? Why? Why?
Why did that woman commit such a senseless act? Will I ever know? It must be a one-in-seven-billion coincidence that she smashed the sign only a few feet from the only writer in the world named Piso Mojado, right? Isn't that correct? She couldn't possibly have known Piso Mojado was nearly next to her, could she? It's impossible that she knew who I was, isn't it? Yipes, talk about a bad review. But that can't be her reason, can it?
Why? Why? Why? Did some liberals or some conservatives read the first lines of "11/11/11" and hire that unlikely maniac? Dang it, readers, you have to read the last line of "11/11/11" before you understand what the story is about. People who haven't read a piece of literature should be forbidden from judging it.
And if you are the woman that symbolically ran me down, please step forward and admit your crime. I'm not a lawyer. I won't sue you or prosecute you. Just tell me it wasn't personal.
I won't even shout. I won't be angry. Be empathetic. I'm hurting. Artists have fragile egos, you know. I need to know this was not an attack against my writing. I want you to assure me that what I witnessed was a terrible incredible coincidence. Do you understand? You have really shaken my confidence. I just need to know why you did what you did.