Westerners do it too (and a meaningless rant).

This post is gross. Heed the warning.

The day before yesterday in an attempt to save the hassle of going to the supermarket with K2 after picking her up from school, I decided to make a mad dash to the supermarket to pick up three of the most used foods in Ramadan (at least in my house, anyways). That would be lemons, cilantro and eggs. Do you have any idea how many eggs we go through in Ramadan? I fear for our cholesterol levels, I really do.

Destination: Supermarket. Al Fair, Sarooj.

(for those of you not familiar, it doesn't really matter the location, but I will say that this particular market is often shopped by expats. Why? I dunno. The place is a dive, if you ask me. It's right along the hi-way, right off a 'posh' neighborhood so you'd think the standards would be a little higher. anyways. I have got to stop sweatin' the small stuff.)

I had exactly 13 minutes to finish my mad dash and even set the alarm on my gsm to go off in that amount of time because I seriously have panic attacks when I think about my kid waiting for me at school. I can just imagine the look on her face when she walks out of her school and see me not there! I know, I know. Get over it.

Ok, so as I made my mad dash into the store, I noticed in my peripheral vision that there was a Western (a white guy, ok?) man hopping out of his Beemer. A new shiny charcoal grey BMW. I believe with all of his might and muster, the guy blocked one of his nostrils and did the unthinkable. HE BLEW HIS NOSE INTO THE AIR. It was so loud, I jumped. Now, when I say he blew his nose, I mean he really blew it. He blew it so hard that I caught glimpses of the....snot/boogers shooting out of his nose. I'm sorry for the visual, but you need to feel my disgust.

Trying my best not to gag (I couldn't risk puking. Puking = breaking my fast. Breaking my fast = having to make it up on another day. Having to make it up on another day = hard), I bolted to the front entrance. Gag, Gag, Gag. Now, to top it off, I did catch that Mr. Booger Blower was driving a car with a diplomatic license plate. So, if your hub is driving a charcoal grey Beemer, please buy him a box of Palace Tissues. Particularly 3-ply. Then explain that it's socially unacceptable to blow your nose into the air when L_Oman's around.

Since the produce is right at the entrance, I grabbed the cilantro with one hand and headed for the lemons. Standing behind yet another Westerner, I waited as the lady in SHORTS AND A STRING STRAP TANK TOP got her lemons. Err, hello! This is the 987th woman I have seen here during RAMADAN dressed like this. I'm sorry. I'm no fanatic, but sheesh. Have some respect, y'all. If you're not down with dressing like Laura Ingalls, no problem. Wear a pair of pants and a tunic. I just don't get it, really. Sorry to offend, but it's a Religous month. Respect that.

After picking out the lemons, I headed over to the eggs, popped them into my little basket and rushed to the checkout. Yes, I had 6 minutes to spare and I was rockin' it. As I stood in line, I noticed that feeling come over me. That would be the 'you are standing way too close, dude if I can smell your breath feeling'. I'm not getting why people feel the need to sandwich together in this part of the world. Give. me. my. space. I turned around and noticed it to be a Filipino business man. My 'give me space' look didn't work and I was bouncing my knees as the Omani guy in front of me was paying for his 10 kilos of bananas. Either dude was hosting iftar or he had a massive family. He looked young, so I bet he was shopping for his mom who was home slaving over the 80 chapatis she was kneading at that very moment. (My imagination runs wild when I stand in line at the grocery store. Thank god I don't think out loud!)

After I pay for the Ramadan essentials, I head to my car which was parked at the furthest parking area which also happens to be a parallel sort of parking area. Three sections of two parallels if you can imagine and I thought I was smarty pants by parking at the very end, leaving the middle spaces open. Welp, as luck would have it, a guy parked horizontal in two spaces, making it look like he was blocking me. He was and he wasn't - all I had to do was reverse. As I set my tray (yes tray - of 30 eggs that would last no longer than...4 days) on the hood, I noticed a not-so-right looking older Omani man coming my direction. Oh NO! I have no time to argue with a beggar - I've got one more minute before I have got to hit the road to pick up K2! Instead, homeboy walks over to Mr. Horizontal Park-Job, taps on his window and tells him off! HA! He was upset because he thought Mr. HPJ was blocking me in. I wanted to bust out laughing, but instead threw the eggs into the front seat started the car and watched as he lectured Mr. HPJ, then proceeds to look at me and shake his head like he was apologizing on his behalf! It was the nicest / weirdest gesture so far (besides the 'beautiful man' one I got when I bought my rug) this Ramadan and I get very few usually!

Men, you loogie. Now you blow your nose into the air. What next?