ANDY COMER: Being lazy is how Valley shoppers roll

You can learn a lot from Lincoln Logs.

As a little boy, I would cover the family room with wooden forts built just for G.I. Joe. My parents would never let me leave the Lincoln Logs lying on the floor overnight — someone could trip on them in the dark, or the dog might eat them — so the logs went back into their box at bedtime. My parents were teaching me a subtle lesson, too: If I use something, I should put it back where I got it from once I'm done.

Apparently, many Valley shoppers never played with Lincoln Logs.

In McAllen, a trip to the grocery always involves navigating a maze of errant shopping carts — you know, the kind that love to leave dents in your auto while you shop. Like the one on my rear fender.

Sometimes the wandering carts will take up entire parking spaces, and other times one antisocial roller will be all by itself way out in no man's land, in the spaces that people only park in during Christmas when the lots are fullest. I've seen packs of evil carts conspire to occupy handicap spaces, and I have even seen suicidal clankers on their last leg — er, wheel — dart into traffic to be put out of their misery. On a recent day I witnessed several drivers nearly plow into a lone Wal-Mart cart that somehow made it onto Sugar Road in Edinburg.

The carts don't just wind up in inconvenient places because they have minds of their own. It all happens because many shoppers — you know who you are — refuse to walk the extra few steps and push their carts back to the recepticles. And judging by the high level of obesity in South Texas, some Valley consumers could definitely use the exercise.

It's not as if the fine folks working at the shopping centers aren't collecting the carts — the blame falls squarely on the shopper. Just the other night I was placing my cart in the receptacle, and a fellow consumer looked at me like I had said something nasty about the Dallas Cowboys (they stink, by the way). That shopper then somehow effortlessly managed to position his cart in just such a way that it blocked two adjoining parking spaces from use. I was both impressed and annoyed at the same time.

The Valley is the first place that I have seen such rampant disregard for shopping cart etiquette, which means either the problem is just a local thing, or I need to travel more. It's probably a little bit of both. Whatever the case may be, a parking lot littered with carts is bound to result in dented automobiles, inconvenience for the disabled or even theft of the carts themselves. When the carts, which can cost about $100 each, are stolen, stores have to make up for those losses by raising the prices of the products they sell. In other words, taking the extra 30 seconds to place your cart back in the receptacle can save you money.

I'm sure that the next time that I go shopping, the parking lot will, as usual, still be full of dent-thirsty carts waiting to roll into innocent cars like mine. But if just one of my dear readers chooses to make a habit of returning his or her cart back to its rightful place, I'll consider this particular column a success.

Oh, and while you're at the store, find out if Lincoln Logs are still around. Since I don't live with my parents anymore, I can leave any log fortresses I might build out on the floor overnight if I want to.

I'm feeling rebellious.

Andy Comer is a copy editor and columnist for The Monitor. Contact him at acomer@themonitor.com.