By Darlene Hucks
Okay so it finally happened. Clemson got a Harris Teeter, your girl was there yesterday for the grand opening, and I need y’all to know I have not been this hot and bothered in a grocery store since a Publix cashier called me “ma’am” in a tone.
I rolled up to 501 Old Greenville Highway in the pink dress, the tiara, and a push-up bra that was doing the Lord’s work, because sources close to the situation (my group chat) said there would be cameras. There were cameras. They were security cameras. I posed for every single one of them.
First stop was the Taste of Teeter sampling table, which is Harris Teeter’s whole grand opening thing, and let me tell you, I tasted. I tasted everything. I had a cube of cheese on a toothpick in one hand and a tiny paper cup of something in the other, and I moaned so loud a man in a Clemson polo dropped his rotisserie chicken. Sir, that’s on you.
Then produce. Oh. My. God. I have never seen so many firm, glistening, well-hydrated vegetables in one place, and I went to a frat formal last spring. The misters kicked on while I was standing next to the zucchini, and I’m not saying it was a religious experience, but I did say “yes, Lord” out loud. Twice.
There was a cucumber display I will not be describing on a family website, except to say that I held one up next to my phone for scale, and my phone lost.
A produce guy — let’s call him Brayden, because I didn’t get his name but he looked like a Brayden — asked if I needed help finding anything. I said, “You.” He said, “Ma’am, the bananas are on aisle one.” Brayden, I know where the bananas are. I have known where the bananas are my whole damn life.
I came for the grand opening. I left needing a cigarette, and I don’t even smoke.
The meat counter was giving everything a girl could want: thick cuts, big racks of ribs, and a butcher who asked “how do you want it cut?” in a voice I will be thinking about in the shower for a week. I said, “However you like it, sweetie.” I walked out with a pork tenderloin I did not need and a phone number that turned out to be the deli’s.
There’s also a fuel center, which, sure. Fill my tank, Harris Teeter. Nobody else is going to.
And yes, I am still pitching Influencer Open Mic Night, except now it’s after dark, in the wine aisle, 21 and up, and the theme is “Melons.” Corporate has not responded, which I am choosing to believe means they are thinking about it really, really hard.
Overheard Downtown
- “I went in for milk and eggs. I came out with an eggplant and an emotional problem.”
- “Did that pageant girl just call the cantaloupes ‘cantaloupies’?”
- “They should rename it Harris Teaser.”
Ten out of ten. Would get turned down by Brayden again. Bless.