There are a few places I always wanted to visit.
Japan, Mexico, The Harry Potter Land in Orlando and Costco.
One of these wonderlands were ticked off the wishlist a couple of weeks ago and I could not have been happier or more devastated.
Entering the secretive (not really) and exclusive (you can be a member for 25 quid a year) quarters hidden away in a retail park in Cardiff, Wales, I was blown away by how minimalistic they kept the interior design. You could almost say it was a warehouse, but I think the term bewarehouse is more fitting.
Stacks and stacks of products, bigger than your face could be found wherever you turned. I felt like I was in this episode of the Simpsons:
I ran around like a headless chicken with the biggest wallet. I pretty much tried and touched every item in this warehouse. I did not know what to buy first. Everything seemed such good value and in such quantity that I may be the best prepared woman for nuclear war outbreak times.
But this enthusiasm soon vanished when I realised I couldn’t figure out whether a 10 pack of Kinder Bueno for a fiver was a good deal. Besides, I like food, but do I like it x20?
Did I need a cheese block bigger than most Central London flats?
Did I really want that massive bar of Galaxy that could provide more leg room than a Ryan Air flight?
I was in a Costco pickle. I suddenly forgot what value meant and how much a pound coin was worth.
I ended up with a kilo of chilli olives, a massive bottle of Tabasco and a 10 pack of Kinder Bueno after all. As soon as I paid for my dirty desires, I immediately felt much less fond of that particular confectionery and those salty little balls of olive flesh.
I Costco’d out.
I sadly put my items in a cardboard box like a sacked office worker, sat in their cafe and ate a hot dog and a pizza. I felt like someone spoilt Breaking Bad for me, only the meth filled thriller was my life. But instead of methamphetamine I had a bin bag full of marshmallows…
The lesson I learnt from this experience is that if I ever was to become a millionaire, I better bloody invest it all as I will lose touch with how much a pint of milk should cost.
“What sir, this pint of semi-skimmed costs a meager £17.89? Here is my wallet, take whatever you need, good man!”
Maybe one day I will return to your vaults of perishable treasures. Maybe one day I will indeed need a bucket of condiments, who knows for sure?