A strawberry stampede

I landed in a Sunday morning strawberry scrum this weekend but, thankfully, the Fruit Truck we all had our eyes on was jam packed.

It was a berry interesting adventure, the seeds of which began with a Facebook invite.

“Florida Strawberries Appleton,” it read, which definitely caught my eye. We generally get ghost strawberries here in March, anemic little berries that taste like paraffin.

I read on…

For precisely 30 minutes, tasty Florida strawberries would be available in eight-pound flats for anyone interested in purchasing them.

I expressed my interest, along with more than 3,000 other people.

The logistics of this operation intrigued me as much as the thought of those fat, red berries.

So, I ditched my people at our cabin Up North and headed to an obscure warehouse parking lot on an unseasonably warm and sunny morning.

I accidentally arrived on double Lombardi time, and so did everyone else, except the truck.

We huddled in strategic bunches, positioning ourselves for easy access to the truck, should it arrive.

I aligned myself with a couple of self-described veterans of the fruit delivery game, who assured me the truck would park in the bay right next to us.

Spoiler alert: It did not.

In fact, that old truck stopped in an entirely different lot, down one street and across another from where we stood.

I trained my whole life for this situation, I told myself, as I hustled away from my mentors and sprint-ambled over to the truck.

Sprint-ambling happens when the bottom half of your body moves as fast as you can go, while the top half attempts to maintain a friendly, nonchalant expression.

I positioned myself in what I considered an ethical spot in line, when a cranky lady barked at me.

“They said to form two lines,” she snapped.

“Are you saying you want me to get behind you?” I asked politely.

“That’s what they said,” she said.

I took some giant steps backward, berry interested in preserving the peace.

A long line formed behind us and I really hope everyone got the berries they came for.

As for me, I made eye contact with no one as I scored my flat and made my way to my car.

I popped a berry in my mouth as I drove away and I’m happy to say it was berry, berry good.