I went to Costco the other day. That’s not the news here. I have been to Costco before. I have been coming to Costco since before it was Costco.

A man named Sol Price opened a membership warehouse wholesale place in San Diego in 1976. He called it Price Club, because he could. It was in a huge old former airplane hangar. Price Club was originally intended for gas station marts and mom and pop convenience stores to be able to buy in bulk at wholesale prices. In time it opened up to individuals, but you had to work for a non-profit, be a teacher or qualify in some other way to get the chance to buy the twenty-five-dollar membership.

Price Club expanded to several other cities and was very successful, selling items in bulk, when the executive vice president of merchandising moved to Seattle and took the idea with him. He and another guy opened a warehouse store they called Costco, because they could. They were very successful too, and in the nineties merged with Price Club and eventually bought them out. Because they could.

Now they will sell a membership to anyone and it will serve your needs from cradle to grave. Literally. You can buy cradles, and you can buy caskets at Costco. Of course, you have to buy three caskets at a time, because they are shrink-wrapped together. So that’s kind of a downside.

And good luck dropping the casket off at a cemetery and expecting it to be buried. There are laws and regulations about that sort of thing. Unless you happen to own some big piece of property like your very own golf course. Then your ex-wife and your secret documents and who knows what else can be buried wherever you like, apparently.

Anyway, I went to Costco the other day.

I just needed to pick up a couple of things. Cheryl advised me to go early, when there would be parking available in the same ZIP code. ZIP stands for Zone Improvement Plan, but that’s for another blog on another day.

So, Costco. I always take Cheryl’s advice, particularly about Costco. She is a seasoned Costco shopper.

The warehouse opens at 9:45, though it’s supposed to open at 10:00. No one knows why. Literally no one knows why. But if you are one of the first ones, if you time it just right, if you get there precisely fifteen minutes early, and the doors open up in front of you…there is no real advantage.

I drove in, took a prime spot in the nearly empty parking lot, and read my emails. In a few minutes I became aware that people were clattering about so I sprung from my car to see what was the matter. And what to my wondering eyes should appear, but elderly shoppers scurrying to be among the first 95 people in the door.

I thought this was odd. What was the rush?  It wasn’t like Costco was going to run out of whatever they had come here to buy. It’s a warehouse. If it’s not on the shelf it’s on the fifteen pallets above the shelf. Settle down.

“But I want to get the very first broasted chicken of the day.” Sure.

The only point in getting there early is to park close to the door. These folks accomplished that goal, and then they walked halfway to Tijuana to get to the back of the line and then had to walk all the way forward, past their own car to get to the front where the shopping carts are welded together.

And then I saw the shoppers who got there early to park close to the door and took the opportunity to walk several laps around the 200-acre parking lot. Walking and stretching, bending, and pumping their arms. Once again people, it is about being lazy and parking close, it’s not about getting your 10,000 steps in before breakfast.

I leaned on my fender and thumbed through the phone until the line reached me. Once it settled, I walked in, picked up the stuff I wanted and walked out eleven minutes later.

As Cheryl had warned me, the parking lot was now full. Cars were zigzagging up one lane and down the next looking for the first open spot. Mind you, this was post-Christmas. It’s just another day at Costco. As I got to my car, two 18-passenger SUVs were jockeying for position to drive in the instant I backed out. (How can it be a “sports” utility vehicle when it’s as big as a house, you ask? Because it can carry the entire team and all their equipment). I didn’t wait to see what would happen to my poor beleaguered compact car parking spot. But I did exclaim, ere I drove out of sight, “Good luck to you all, you should have parked overnight.”