Hungry & Tires

Back to Costco

Recently, the person I trust most in this world—my mechanic—told me I needed new tires. I asked him where I should get them. He paused, then said, “Do you have a Costco membership?” Do I! I headed to Burbank in search of Costco tires and Costco gas.

By the time I arrived in the valley, the heat was hovering around ninety degrees. I signaled to enter the parking lot, only to find traffic to enter the parking lot. This was because every single person in Southern California was filling their tank at the Costco gas station on a Monday afternoon. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s give up in the face of a challenge, so I skipped the gas and began to trawl the parking lot for a spot. As I did, it occurred to me that maybe I needed some sort of appointment for the tire thing.

One hundred years later, parking spot secured, this suspicion was confirmed. My phone told me I not only needed an appointment, but I needed to purchase the actual tires in advance. I attempted to do so, but every time I went to check out the site served a “Page not found!” message accompanied by a photograph of a giant teddy bear reclining on a bunch of water bottles:

IMAGE DESCRIPTION: a screen grab of the Costco "“Page Not Found!” message

I considered my options:

1. Give up in the face of the challenge and go home.

2. Face a fresh challenge at IKEA.

3. Eat lunch at Costco.

Unable to face the prospect of navigating my way out of the parking lot, I cut my losses and headed to the Costco café.

The baby and I crossed the endless parking lot, dodging other lost souls meandering through the sweltering hell. We got to the outdoor café (this is California). After five minutes in line I realized I actually needed to preselect and prepay for my meal at the kiosks located behind me. Modern efficiency! When I got to the front, I received a slice of cheese pizza as big as my head and a fruit smoothie I regretted ordering the moment I saw them pour a giant plastic bag of pre-smoothie slush into the ice machine.

I found a bench. The temperature was a thousand degrees. The pizza immediately burned off half of the roof of my mouth. I wish I could say that was the first time pizza has done that. It was not.  

I didn’t give up in the face of the challenge. I was too hungry. The familiar taste of Costco pizza flooded the taste buds I hadn’t incinerated. I gulped the rapidly congealing cheese, grease coating my hands. As the baby grasped for it, the pediatrician’s warnings about excessive sodium echoed in my head, but as her grasping escalated to whining I fed her cooled-down crust. This is America and this is what we eat.

I finished most of the pizza. I was no longer hungry but by no means satiated. We went inside to the Costco itself, to cool down in the A/C and marvel at all the future trash. Once I had returned to a normal body temperature we headed back to the parking lot and drove home on my deteriorating tires.