Supermarket Miracle

    I turned down the frozen food aisle to get waffles and then I saw a miracle. There was a man opening a freezer door, and in his cart were the exact seven items that were in my cart—a gallon of nonfat milk, a twelve pack of Diet Coke, Nature’s Pride Wheat Bread, Honey Bunches of Oats cereal, Chips Ahoy cookies, Ken’s Chunky Blue Cheese salad dressing, and Crest Toothpaste.
   I approached the man and asked, “Are you going to buy Eggo Blueberry Waffles?”
   “Yes, I love blueberry waffles” he said. “How did you know?”
   “Well, we have the exact same seven items in our shopping cart. And I was going to buy blueberry waffles too, so that makes eight items.” I said.
   “Wow, that’s pretty crazy.”
   “Yeah, I mean what are the chances?” I asked.
   “Probably pretty low,” he said.
   “Pretty low? Pretty low? You got to figure there are over 50,000 different products here,” I said. “And we picked the exact same eight, at the exact same time, at the exact same place. That sir, is a miracle”
   “Yeah, but you need to consider that our items are pretty common. I mean Diet Coke and milk are pretty popular.”
   “That’s true, but Chunky Blue Cheese salad dressing?”
   “Ok, it’s pretty crazy. Well. . . . it was nice to meet you, take care,” he said. He then picked up some blueberry waffles, put them in his shopping cart, and proceeded down the aisle.
   As he was leaving, I still couldn’t get over the fact that we had the exact same items in our cart. “Wait,” I said as I ran after the man. I caught up to him.
   Before I could say something he said, “I know this is a crazy coincidence, but I’m kind of in a hurry.”
   “I’m sorry to take your time, but I really think there is something behind this. Like maybe, we’re twins that were separated at birth, or maybe you’re like my alter ego or something.”
   “But we don’t look anything alike.” He was right. I’m six feet tall, have pale white skin, and blonde hair. He was about five feet ten, had tan skin, and black hair. But still, we didn’t look that dissimilar that you couldn’t rule out the possibility that we were fraternal twins.
   “Hmmmm . . . . . what’s your name?” I asked.
   “My name is Weston Merrick,” he said, “and yours?”
“Prior Adams, ok so we don’t have the same last names. Are you an orphan, did you know your parents, do you look like your family?”
   Weston looked at me puzzled. “I don’t know you, and you’re asking me all these personal questions. I’m sorry, but I have to go. It was nice to meet you Prior.”
   “I’m sorry for taking your time. I swear I’m not crazy; I’m just a normal guy. I just think there has to be a reason why we had the same items. Like, why did you buy the Nature’s Pride bread? Maybe that’s a sign that we need to start a homeless shelter and give out food to the needy.” I could tell he wanted to leave, and normally I don’t like to keep people engaged in a conversation unwillingly, but I knew there was something behind this.
   “I bought it because it was on sale.”
   “Yeah me too,” I said. Nature’s Pride bread usually costs $3.99 a loaf, but that week they were on sale for $1.99. “Crap! What about the Diet Coke? Why do you like Diet Coke?”
   “Hmmmm . . . . I guess it started in college. My professor for Politics and Strategy always drank a Diet Coke during lectures, and I started drinking after that,” he said.
    “No way,” I said, “I started drinking Diet Coke after one of my professors always drank it during lectures. Where did you go to school?”
   “I went to U.C. Santa Barbara,” he said.
   “Ohhhh . . . . I went to Berkeley. I guess we didn’t have the same professor. What about the Honey bunches of Oats?”
   “Look, like I said I’m in a hurry. Maybe there’s a connection. How about I give you my email, and you can let me know if you find anything out. Do you have some a pen and paper?”
   “Yeah, I have a pen,” I said. I grabbed a pen that I always keep clipped to my jean pocket. “I don’t have any paper.”
   “Here, let me write on your Honey Bunches of Oats box,” he said. I handed him the pen and the cereal box. He then wrote his email and gave me back the pen. “Let me know if you come up with anything.” He then turned around and headed toward the check-out stand.
   As he was leaving, and had his back towards me, I shouted, “I really think there is something at work.” Without turning around he lifted his right arm to let me know he heard me. I didn’t understand why Weston didn’t share my enthusiasm. I figured he gave me a fake email, or at best, the email he gives when he wants to avoid advertisements. But I still wanted to understand the meaning of this encounter, so I sent him an email outlining the reasons why I bought each item that day. About three weeks later I got this reply:

Re: Supermarket Miracle
To: kingadams@gmail.com
CC:

Prior Adams,

Thank you for emailing me. Sorry for my delayed response—I’ve been very busy with work. I read your detailed email and I think I’ve figured out the underlying meaning of having the same grocery items. You mentioned how you bought the Crest toothpaste after your dentist recommended that you switch brands. After reading that, I realized that I had not been to the dentist in over two years. I then called my dentist and scheduled an appointment. The dentist found out that I needed a root canal, and that I was lucky that I scheduled the appointment when I did, because I might have lost my tooth if I came in any later. Isn’t that crazy? Anyways, it was nice to meet you. Take care.

Thanks,
Weston Merrick

   After reading this email, I was so glad that I was persistent. I knew there was a reason why Weston and I had the exact items in our shopping carts, and it felt good to be vindicated.