Black Friday

I can’t really say when my aversion for shopping began. I was young. I do know that part. Part of me finds it wise to blame winter coats. The cold blazing weather outside and the toasty warm shopping malls combined together to create a furnace under my insulated layer. Sweat dripping, anxiety rising. “Take off your coat”, they’d say. So I did, letting the air cool the sweat that was running down my back. I would hold my coat with one hand and ripe the sweat away from my forehead with the other. Then, my hands would get sweaty, my arms would get tired - creating just a different problem. We passed stores and lines of people consuming deals, pretzels, and shirts.  Horrible.

Another part of me wants to blame the stores themselves. Roping us in with their attractive mannequins - their shirts pinned tightly in the back to make them look slimmer. LET THEM BREATH, ABERCROMBIE, I remember thinking.  We’d leave the store 60 dollars poorer with a sweater worth $10.00. I felt hussled, even as a kid, I remember the feeling. Then, we had to face the middle kiosk workers. They would wave us over to show us their new flying toy, their scarves. . . their make-up. Any time someone has to try to sell you something, it probably isn’t worth buying. But, there we were, watching this man launch a floating fairy for the fiftieth time, acting like it was magic to get the kids to want it more. Simple, physics, Fred, IT'S SIMPLE PHYSICS. But, we bought it. And the toy has been in the landfill since 1997. (Someone google the decomposition rate of outdated Christmas toys)

And then, there were the people. There were people all over the place, like little ants – just busy working for the big queen ant of capitalism. Their bodies shaking from the 5 Frappuccino’s they bought. ‘Tis the Season for Peppermint, White Chocolate, Flaked, Tall, Venti, Whipped, Sugar Laced Mochas.  I just tried to keep up with my heavy boots and jeans. They had the advantage with the caffeine racing through their veins. I would trip over my feet as people sneezed, coughed, and sprayed germs all over.  Christmas music played in the background to make us all feel jollier than we actually were. “Here comes Santa Claus, Here comes Santa Claus. . .” – More like, “here comes the flu, Steve”. Get out of here.  

One time my whole family went to The Mall of America and I gladly declined. I stayed in my nice, sweat free, home. I was around 9. There was no way I would climb the tiered building of hell, repeating the misery on every single floor. Why have one Footlocker, when you could have 3? “I would like to sweat up 3 stories today to get my shoes”, the shoppers would think, “Last time, the 2nd story footlocker didn’t do it for me, the altitude makes them lighter and airier”. You can't fool me with your 20 dollar indoor roller coaster. What in the consumer hell is wrong with that place?

Then, of course, there is always the daunting, and inevitable event that we would leave with nothing. Too many choices lead to a lack of decision making. We would spend all of our time, energy, and water weight – just to walk out the doors, empty, and sweaty handed.

After all is said and done, we would return to the parking lot, the same horrible place it started – with lines of people looking for a spot. The sweat freezing into little icicles on my back. Do you know why you can’t find a spot? Because there’s a bazillion sweaty, flu ridden people inside already – waiting to share their holiday cheer. But, everyone prays to St. Anthony, and lo and behold a spot opens up. He works over time for Christmas, apparently.  

It is the same every year. If you enjoy this, you are a strong person, stronger than I am. The shopping has toughened you up, built your endurance, your immune system, your patience. I almost commend you, almost - but I think I fear you, most.



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