Clean up on the Cereal aisle

I got to the grocery store and I already was on the verge of tears.  I wanted to cry just looking at the tiny aisles that seemed to be shrinking and the people that were packed into each one.  Now, I should tell you, I already hate grocery shopping, it's on my top 5 list of least favorite things to do ever.  Right after going to the dentist and getting a shot at the doctor's.  I HATE IT.  It's a weird anxiety I have, a kind of self consciousness I developed.  When I lived in California I would either be on the phone, or take someone with me, making it a social outing rather than a necessity.  Here, in New York, everything about it incites a panic attack.  The fact that grocery stores here are about 1/3 the size of store in CA, but still to try to pack in all the same amount of items.  Not to mention the fact that I am already dreading the trip home, I already know I'm going to have to carry this about 10 blocks and up 66 stairs. I get bumped into, God only knows by how many people.  Its like New Yorkers think the world is a real life version of bumper cars.  I walk down the aisles with my basket, not the kind you push, the kind you hold.  Struggling under its weight.  there's a lady in her fur coat, sunglasses on, (INSIDE) who rudely plows through me, God forbid she say "excuse me."  I walk aisle after aisle, dodging people, moving out of the way of kids and men on their bluetooths.  And I make it to the cereal aisle, and I start to go for something healthy, but with the mood I'm in I go for something familiar and sweet, Reese Puffs!  I start to turn, and realize I'm trapped between someone actually pushing a cart through this maze and 3 people with baskets and one forlorn tear actually escapes.  I hate this even more.  I'm not one of those people who cry, but I wanted to just sit in the aisle and bawl my head off.  I finally make it around the aisle and I fervently look at sign after sign, looking for something, but see nothing.  I go up and down and up and down and in two circles and finally get up the courage to ask the two workers I've already passed about 4 times, another thing on my list of top things I hate, asking people for helm.  But I'm at my wit's end, so I ask, "Where's the coffee?"  One of them frowns and then talks to me in Spanish, I'm not fluent, but I understand and my face lights up I'm sure.  I head in the direction he said and find the coffee. And then I get the heck out of my own personal nightmare, also known as the grocery store.