Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here

If I have a personal hell, it must be the underground parking lot at the Pasadena branch of Whole Foods, or "Trash Store," as The Roc lovingly calls it. Not once, but twice now I have had to call a tow truck to get me out of it. That's a lot of time spent breathing Prius fumes in a dark, enclosed space with an antsy toddler hopped up on free samples of organic artisanal cheese.

Today, I woke up not quite recovered from my recent bout of non-swine flu and discovered that we were out of The Roc's favorite fish-shaped gluten-free frozen fish sticks, exclusive to Whole Foods. By the time I got us both showered and dressed, it was nearly lunch time, so we hustled into the car. Upon arriving in my own personal hell, I discovered that The Roc's juice cup had leaked all over the diaper bag. So, not only was there a big, sticky mess in my car, but I had no functioning diaper bag and NO JUICE. Which wouldn't have been a problem if the car hadn't refused to start again.

I'm not sure which of Dante's nine circles of hell Whole Foods belongs in. Lust . . . for ripe, juicy, perfectly formed, pesticide-free produce? Gluttony . . . for gluten-free, soy-based desserts? Avarice . . . as in: "There's no way I'm paying eighteen bucks a pound for bacon, even if it is free-range and smoked with sustainable hickory"?

In any case, they didn't have the fish-shaped gluten-free frozen fish sticks. I had to get regular gluten-free frozen fishsticks. But they were having a sale on my favorite non-dairy ice cream and frozen vegan chicken cutlets, so I stocked up. Thus, it was with a car full of melting, overpriced groceries (but no diapers or juice) that I waited for the tow truck, which finally came after 45 agonizing minutes of "Itsy Bitsy Spider" and "Wheels on the Bus."

From now on, I'm taking my chances with the Glendale Whole Foods. At least their parking lot is above ground.