Trader Ho's

Seemingly overnight, there are signs that spring has returned. The trees started blooming their flowers. People are shedding their winter skins of coats and gloves. The line at Shake Shack is back to being a minimum of a 30-minute wait. Soon, I'll be able to rollerblade along the Hudson River, feeling the wind in my face.

Yeah, that's what I'm talking about

Excited as I am about all this, I have moments of hating one thing about New York: the obnoxiousness of the people (myself not included). They're out of hibernation and back in full force.

I love Trader Joe's grocery store. It's a fantastic place, both for their variety and quality of products, as well as their prices. That they decided to open a location in NYC on Union Square gave me hope, as I could only save my Trader Joe's runs for the one near my parents' house. Cut to me, racing around the store like one of those people in those supermarket game shows.

"Dude, watch me fly for the polenta in Aisle 4."

"Polenta, my ass. With this Cart of Steel, don't even think about touching the Chicken Vindaloo."

Not to say that it's a rushed experience, because it's not. At the one I normally go to, the people are pretty happy and relaxed. It's just me and my food shopping insanity over the cute packaging and really cheap prices. So when my mom and I were in the Union Square area yesterday, we decided to check it out, being big fans of the brand.

And it was scaryyy.

It's a bad sign when, within minutes of your arrival, a very Upper East Side (UES) blond is heard asking in posh tones, "Do you have any Two Buck Chuck left?" Two Buck Chuck is the famous store brand wine, which costs two dollars, and it was already sold out. Much credit probably due to the fermented livers of the NYU students who live above the store.

"How many do you want?" "Two bottles of da TBC."

"It'll be three dinners off your meal card, bro. And make it Hayden Cafeteria. They got that taco bar."

Meet the Trader Ho, the Trader Joe version of a groupie. They're like a Trader Joe's Ho. (Trader Ho Joe's? Ho Jo's? Howard Johnson? Ho ho ho? That's another post.) Anyways, these are the people who define themselves by what they consume, in the material sense, and buy into the whole schlock. "I shop/dine here, therefore I am." Do you think this UES Trader Ho even heard of Two Buck Chuck before the Post wrote about it? No. Would the words "Two Buck Chuck" traditionally come out of her mouth? No. But she's asking for it, and that makes her a Trader Ho.

Continuing on, we strolled around to hear snippets of conversation you don't hear anywhere else in the metro area, but Manhattan. We passed by a boy around 7 or 8 years old, who was inspecting the nutritional label of a frozen yogurt and announces, "Mom, it's got only 1 gram of fat!"

This mother and daughter duo turned around to assess this freak of nature, before turning to each other with our respective comments about what we just heard. Mine was about someone needing to shove a Snickers bar down the kids' throat, while my mom's was along the lines of being the one to volunteer for the job.

And the Snickers bar chased him allll the way home!

You'd think we walked into some exclusive club that no one else was entitled to, except for the speaker of whatever idiocy came out next. This is typical of New Yorkers. They've got to assume complete ownership of anything which is considered 'current' and prove that they were ahead of the pack in obtaining that knowledge. That restaurant? Been there. The new art installation at the Whitney? Done that. How dare they sit in my spot of Central Park? Don't they know it's my spot?

This is just a sampling. This overall superiority complex extends itself to ev-ery-thing. It gets tiresome. The best dry cleaner. The best pet food. The best waiter at the best coffee shop which serves up the best crumb cake. Yes, I've heard this one. So, it was no surprise to hear this be applied to food. You know, food? That stuff which sustains us and supports life every day? They've laid claim on that too:

Bourgeoise Hippy Trader Ho #1: "This Trader Joe's is nothing like the one in Ventura."

Bourgeoise Hippy Trader Ho #2: "Oh, I know! The lettuce isn't as green! Does this gluten-free chocolate pudding go with my top?"

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Memo to Trader Ho: It's a food shop, not farkin' Bungalow 8.