Soarin’ through the produce section
Open the airways. The grocery store just became the happening place for sensory overload.
I was on a hunt for a half-gallon of ice cream — just a quick grab-andgo at the nearby market. When I walked through the doorway of the store, something grabbed my nose in a big way.
Oranges. The sweet, sweet smell hit me fast and drew me to the middle of the produce wonderland. I could smell the juice under the puckered orange skin, with undertones of bitter rind.
What’s that? I wondered as another sweet smell drifted in my direction — ripe bananas. Other fruits soon mixed into an ambrosia that saturated my nasal cavities.
This was my first trip to the grocery store without a mask. I have dozens of masks sewn by my mother, with four layers of fabric and secret pockets that hide an N-95 mask. Most folks have been with freedom on their face for weeks or months, but not me. I’ve been working in a tight, COVIDfree bubble for my job with international training. When the international educators are in town, we can’t risk even a common cold because one or more in the group might miss out on events during their short time in America. I’ve also been extra cautious because my mother is safeguarding her health. I love her and want to visit her. She quizzes me about my recent behavior, a skill she fine-tuned during my teen years, and she always knows if I lie.
However, our most recent group of international visitors returned safely to their countries, and I had a 10-day window before my next visit with mom.
Let the smell begin
At California Disney, my favorite ride is “Soarin”. Riders sit in a glider, simulating a quick trip over California. When you soar over the orange groves, the ride turns to smello-vision, with a whiff of citrus. Next is the salty sea spray over the coast. I’ve been hidden by a mask for a long, long time, which made my trip through the produce section a thrill ride.
The ice cream wasn’t going anywhere so I wandered. I could smell the cardboard surrounding the vacuum-sealed packages of cereal, the floor wax, plastic wrap covering cuts of meat.
Bread became an olfactory feast. I could sniff the difference between rye and sourdough. This must be how dogs feel when they take a walk and have forgotten they walked this same path just the day before.
En route to the freezer section, I almost gagged near the laundry soap. The perky chemical solutions were so overpowering it felt like I was trapped with a case of air fresheners in a hot car.
A nicely-dressed woman passed me in the aisle, and I could smell her perfume. It was a nice scent but still overpowering for my nose that had recently been hidden. If I could smell her, I was literally breathing her.
Years ago, my other and I attended a lecture by Deepak Chopra at Laxson Auditorium. Chopra asked the audience to take a deep breath and on his cue,