Survivors for Smokey

This is us

I don't even know where to start in describing this day. Our day for Smokey.

A random Facebook event post. A trip to get a signed wine bottle at a grocery store. A missed movie. A bunch of strangers. An aging R&B icon. A really long wait. A group of new friends.

Yeah. It went something like that.

The story starts with what we thought would be a quick stop for a Christmas gift. We were also hoping for a picture with the famed singer, Smokey Robinson. All these hopes were to happen on December 21st, which also was the last Saturday before Christmas.

Hopes and dreams.

The event of note came to our attention through Facebook. It was advertised as a wine bottle signing from 2-4 pm at a nearby Albertson's grocery store. Who knew Smokey had his own wine line? I didn't. But Facebook is always there to remind me of obscure happenings like these.

My cousin, Bill, saw the post and after an exchange of texts, we added it to our calendars. It sounded like a fun thing to do on an otherwise open Saturday. Bill wanted to surprise his mom with a signed bottle as her Christmas gift.

With Garrett in tow, the three of us planned on a quick stop at Albertson's to gather our wine and get a photo with the beautiful silky-voiced legend. Garrett had a few groceries to grab. Win-win, we thought. Our plan was to arrive shortly before the 2 pm start, just in case there was a line. Then we were planning to go to a 2:50 movie playing nearby.

Plenty of time, we thought. Perfect planning, we said.

Pulling into the full parking lot, we got our first indication that our planning may be amiss. The adjoining parking lot was full of overflow as well. Last minute Christmas grocery shopping, I said. Garrett was less optimistic as he circled the lot along with a dozen or so other drivers.

He dropped Bill and me off to get in line. A short one, we were sure, as we thought we were early. The crowd had to be just last-minute grocery shoppers. Or so we thought.

The place was a madhouse. People were everywhere, but we spotted a line. It started at the front door and ended back in produce. With raised eyebrows, we were taken aback by the length of the line, but determined to get our spot. We squeezed our way around stacks of iceberg lettuce and pre-wrapped seafood platters to be told we were mistaken. We missed the fork in the road to Smokey. The line didn't end in produce. Oh no. It took a turn at produce and weaved past the bakery.

2:00 pm
We secured our spot.

I held our place while Bill went to buy the wine. Our hope was that if we took care of things like checking out, we would save time in the end. When Bill came back with the wine in his tote, Garrett showed up with his grocery shopping completed. Ten minutes and I hadn't moved an inch. Bill received intel at check-out that Smokey was running ten minutes late, but the line would start moving soon.

We gained insight from the couple ahead of us that we could save money by buying six bottles instead of our original three. Bill and Garrett proceeded back to check out for a refund and a new purchase of six, broken into two totes. One for me and one for Bill. We were now completely ready for our next need, signatures from Smokey. Ready and waiting.

2:30 pm
No movement. Not an inch.

The Albertson's staff was busy handing out tastings of wine with different stations for food samples throughout the store. The female of the duo ahead of us came back with a beer tasting. Bill and I had been chatting with her boyfriend who didn't like the IPA offered. Neither did she. So I gladly took it.

Soon we were conversing as a comfortable foursome, trying to figure out the Smokey signing program ahead of us. They offered to share their cart so Bill and I wouldn't have to carry our totes of wine. We gladly set our goods down as we were now prepared for a wait. Both of our parties were counting on a signed Smokey bottle of wine for mom Christmas gifts. There was no interest in rewriting Christmas lists.

3:00 pm
No movement. No 2:50 movie.

Garrett had since bought a Christmas card and left to mail it at a nearby post office. I decided to wander to the front of the line and observe what was causing the stalemate in movement. I found that Smokey was definitely signing his wine bottles. But he was also hugging whomever asked and taking as many pictures as requested. My quick math deduced that the line wasn't going to speed up anytime soon.

This prompted me to make two decisions. 1) take a selfie with the Smokey poster displayed in the store front 'just in case' and 2) go upstairs to the balcony bar overlooking the grocery store to have a glass of Prosecco and sit for a bit. The recharging did wonders before I made my way back to our place in line.

3:45 pm
We moved.

Our advanced placement was on the intersection of bakery and produce. We were now past small talking with Madison and Nathan, the couple in front of us, and Patrick, the gentleman behind us. Discussions moved from the layout of grocery stores based on past work experiences to an in-depth conversation on the legend of Smokey Robinson spurred from Wikipedia research during my Prosecco time.

Our conversations continued on subjects ranging from the joy of travel and living in different places to generational differences between Generation X and Millennials. Both generations were covered in our little group. Discussion centered on how we appreciated one another. More wine samples were shared and our conversation and camaraderie flourished.

4:00 pm
We moved. Kind of.

Finally to the spot in produce where we originally thought the line ended, we were beginning to get anxious. Told by staff that Smokey was staying for another 20 minutes, but had a hard stop to make another engagement. We may or may not make the cut to see him.

4:05 pm
I proceeded to the front of the line, lingering and timing how long it took for each party to pass through their Smokey time. I applied the average time and average group size to the number of people ahead of us. The Albertson's lady was right. We really were on the bubble.

4:10 pm
Running back to my posse, I reported my findings. I also shared my observation that people were taking multiple photos and having various items signed in addition to the wine. We needed a plan. We wanted our time in line to pay off. We needed to see Smokey.

Madison took a much braver step than me. She went right up to Smokey's security and tried to sweet talk them, making sure they knew she was to board a plane the next morning to spend Christmas with her mother. This signed bottle was her mom's Christmas gift. Her only gift. Can't they please make sure we had our turn?

Patrick bought more wine and secured a Smokey photo for signature. His approach was optimism. With his aging mom a huge fan, he really wanted to have the signed photo as her gift.

4:15 pm
We have moved, but the bubble was still there. We were SO on the fence for making the cut, but still a cohesive group. All or nothing we decided with the couple behind us joining our party. We had waited in line together for 135 minutes. We had shared life. We had shared our stories and WE WANTED SMOKEY. We were not going to let our mothers down.

Our strategy was to form one group, putting all of our wine in Nathan and Madison's cart.

"We will say we are all one family!" says Madison.

I looked over at Madison. She had just shared with us her Native American heritage. Patrick was African American. Bill was Italian. And the couple behind us, Hispanic.

"We will say we are a modern family!" I say.

We all laugh. And then we look around and we laugh some more. Determined to make this happen and giddy in our group cohesiveness, we take our first selfie. We have now moved to the nut section and are entering the wine. Almost there.

Our faces are clearly reading 'We got this'.


4:20 pm
We are told we are in. We will get our wine bottles signed! The mothers will get their Christmas presents! All is right in the world while a loud celebratory cheer is heard from our 'family'. We are told no posed pictures with Smokey.

No pictures. No problem. We were going to try to make sure those behind us got the same opportunity as us. Hopefully, a few more could be squeezed in as we had all been playing the waiting game.

We devised a plan to take photos of each other with the goal of getting through quickly. Like a well-oiled family machine, we knew exactly who was to take pictures of who. One by one, we each got our little bit of time and love from Smokey.

It was so worth the wait. He was a perfect gentleman, wanting to talk to each of us and carefully writing the names of the mothers. We now understood why the line was so slow. Smokey really wanted to talk to the people who came to see him. He was a gem.

From my reading in Wikipedia, I learned that he had signature green eyes passed down from his French great-grandmother. When it was my turn, I melted looking into his kind eyes, aged but still a vibrant bright green.

"You have the most beautiful eyes," I swooned. "You really look great."

"Oh, honey, you are so beautiful too!" Smokey answered in his soft voice, stopping while signing my bottle to look up at me.

No hurry for Smokey. I felt like he had all the time in the world.

Bill followed me. Smokey had a separate conversation with him that ended with a handshake.

What a nice man. So worth the wait.

4:25 pm
Garrett is now texting me, wanting to know if we made the cut as I had been texting him about our predicament. For the record, Garrett scored huge points for waiting in the car for us with not one complaint. He was likely watching some sporting game, but regardless, there were a lot of marital points earned for him

Our little modern family felt like we just won a challenge in a Survivor episode. Between hugs and airdropping photos of each other, we shared looks at our newly signed treasures. A final picture of us was taken by one of Smokey's people (see top photo). The happiness was real.

And then we realized it was time to part ways. Our little band was breaking up. From elation to a bit of sadness. With wishes of Merry Christmas and safe travels, we all went on our separate ways with our Smokey-signed wine in tow.

9:00 pm
Garrett, Bill, and I did catch the later 6:40 pm movie showing. Not quite what we originally planned, but we really enjoyed the movie with the time of day not ultimately mattering. Patrick did not have a phone with him during our Smokey Survivor adventure. Our workaround was his typing his number into my iPhone notes (likely there was an easier way, but remember that Patrick and I were not in the Millennial group of our posse). I later sent the pictures with a little note and his response back gave me a smile. I can't tell you the last time I had so much fun waiting in line while sharing life with some perfect strangers.

And, yes, Patrick, I completely agree. Today really was amazing. Life throws unexpected curveballs in the most inconspicuous places.