And ain't no way in hell, I am going to a store on Friday.
How about you?
Did it once
seems an eternity ago;
Years ago, my bride and I would find ourselves waiting for stores to open at 4 am.
It couldn’t be helped.
The glisten in her eyes from anticipation of early morning adventures swayed me to wake in the dead of night on black Friday eve, tiptoe past slumbering chickens, and sit in the mall parking lot, staring at the line of crazed humanity already encircling the electronics store like it was Jericho.
One time she joined the horde, unsuccessfully coaxing me to follow.
There I sat, flashlight and crossword in hand, hair askew, bedbeard looking like I was in a crosswind…..stomach chatting with me.
Two minutes to 4, I rubbed the fog off the side window.
The crazies were jostling for position.
I lost sight of the wife somewhere around the corner of the building.
I slap on my fishing cap and begrudgingly leave the refuge of the Buick.
The doors open.
The guy with the keys gets carried away with the mob.
Only thing you can see of him is his flailing arms.
I stroll in with the first 50 shoppers that will get the TV special, getting a glimpse of the wife swimming past, heading to the TV dept….only the specials were all up front. The guy with the keys and foot prints on his shirt, points me the way.
Half hour later, here she comes, TV in cart.
I, TV in trunk, am on the 2nd crossword.
We’re not done…there’s a mere 27 other stores that have free snow globes, free coffee, and free donuts…….the frenzy has only begun.
So we secure her TVs, and make our way upstream, pointing to the trunk as we stroll back inside, making sure the parking lot thieves can know where at least two of the 50 TVs can still be had.
Two hours later, with globes clutched by jittering caffeine induced hands, the furrowed brows on my powdered sugar countenance lets the wife know I’m a couple clicks past jolly…and we go home….blessed home…..
Now, shopping for people at the mall has been great entertainment for my lady and I.
We just sit on a bench, munching on popcorn, and watch mothers drag their screaming little darlings along.....and their husbands (but less screaming...some).
We once sat by one of those quarter horses (put a quarter in the slot), and noted the parent's varied techniques in skirting quarter out-put;
1st dad:
DON'T TOUCH IT!!! Tazing his precious antiseptic germ distribution unit with his Neosporin gun.
2nd dad: sets his kid on and fakes putting a coin in, then shakes the crap outta the machine, making periodic wheenying noises.....
3rd dad: points the opposite direction, noting wonderful toy stores around the corner, while briskly whisking his kid by the horsey.
Its great fun.
…and it's quite thrifty.