Our old electric can opener was making noises as if it was about to croak last week, so we decided to go to Wal-Mart to get a new one.  Though we wouldn't think of buying a major appliance at Wal-Mart, it's as good a place as any to go for something like this.

As usual, both the parking lot and the store had a cosmopolitan atmosphere.  Almost nobody within earshot was speaking English – sort of like a United Nations recess.  This was in direct contrast to the PA system inside the store, which delivered a constant stream of advice in English telling us what to buy, in case we had forgotten why we came.  Nobody seemed to listen to it, but, impressionable as I am, I very nearly emerged with a garden hose, a case of diet soda, and a package of ladies' panties because of the siren song of the ads.  Considerable self-restraint was required to keep me from buying stuff I neither wanted nor needed.

Also emanating from the PA system were periodic announcements in a language I could not make out.  They're difficult to render in writing, but they sounded something like:  "Will mmph please garble to phmmp."  Let it never be said that Wal-Mart doesn't hire the handicapped.  Dozens of speech-challenged people are employed there to do nothing but make unintelligible announcements over the PA system.

As was expected, shopping at Wal-Mart offered the recreational opportunity to perform gymnastic exercises as we maneuvered around cartons and goods that littered the aisles.  Since goods on the shelves hardly ever matched the price labels underneath, we had the interesting mental challenge of matching bar codes on the shelves to those on the products so as to determine their price.  I confess that we cheated in this game, for we had brought along a magnifying glass.

At the checkout, we had to wait in a rather long line.  That was our fault, however, because we chose to think of ourselves as customers and not as Wal-Mart employees and therefore did not use the self-checkout.  Still, the wait gave us the opportunity to hear even more advertisements (I nearly went back and bought some girdles that were on sale), to peruse the gum, candy, and other goodies on the racks by the register, and to read several interesting articles in the tabloids considerately placed there for the entertainment of waiting customers.

When we emerged, I said to my wife, "Another wonderful Wal-Mart shopping experience!"  Golly, I sort of hope the can opener doesn't work so that I have to go back to return or replace it.