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The holiday season is here. For me that means I have to do things and deal with people that I can successfully avoid the other 350 days of the year. The 15 days prior to Christmas though is a different story. I put on my armor, jump into the battle, and do my best to come out unscathed.
There are places that I avoid during the majority of the year and the biggest one, both in size and in order of importance, is the mall. Back when it was new and I was much younger we got along famously. I enjoyed going there and it was one stop shopping for my garment and gift buying needs. Ah, to be young with your first credit card and an eye for fashion. Looking back at pictures of those times, fashion may be a bit too strong of a word. The seventies will not go down in the annals of fashion history as one of its shinning moments.
Through the years our local mall, like malls around the country, has gone through numerous transformations. It has not only expanded in size, gobbling up chunks of the Santa Anita Race Track parking with every expansion, it also continues to morph on the inside as tastes change. I found when I went in, shortly after its last transformation, that apparently Ty Pennington must have been involved because its make over was very extreme.
I made the mistake of attempting to go there by myself and traverse the new floor plan alone. What a mistake. After entering through one of the new sections I found myself completely lost and unable to get my bearings. After every other make over through the years I was always able to walk right in and know where I was going, but not this time. I stopped, wishing I had left a trail of breadcrumbs, and froze. In my confusion I realized that I had forgotten what I had gone there for in the first place. I slowly retraced my steps and got the hell out of there and have not gone into the inter sanctum since.
From that day forward I only approached the mall from points that I am familiar with, Nordstrom’s, JC Penny’s, Robinson’s-May, etc. If I have to make another stop I go out to my car and drive to that other store. There is no way I was going to get sucked into that giant vortex and be lost for all time, wandering for eternity searching for an exit.
The only other time that I go to the new area of the mall is to drop off my kids, Rachel and Alex, where the theatre is. But rarely do I leave my car and if I do, I don’t go too far in, and I always keep one eye on the exit to make sure I can get out. My kids have spent so much time there that they know every inch of the joint. I guess you could say, as Kevin Smith put it in his film, they are your typical mallrats.
So a couple of days ago, Rachel needed to go up to the mall after school to exchange some things she had purchased. Knowing that I had to learn about this place sooner or later I decided to seize the opportunity to use her as my guide and go with her. With Rachel behind the wheel (an article for another day) off we went to the great unknown. Well unknown to me.
The beginning was uneventful as we entered at a spot I was familiar with but even that had changed. The old food court was gone and new stores lined the entry. The most interesting being a place called “Sword in the Stone” which carries nothing but swords, knifes, and daggers. All were very ornate but I couldn’t help wondering how a place like this stays in business. The last time I checked it wasn’t really socially acceptable to wear a sword in public, although I must admit there have been many times I wished I had one.
After Rachel had made her returns we started getting into areas that were totally unfamiliar to me. She was guiding me around like I was mentally impaired and was getting frustrated with the fact that I didn’t know my way around. I would keep up with her for a while and then I would slow down and eventually balk just trying to get my mind to wrap around where I was. I felt like I was walking in circles and was seeing places I had just seen. Was I getting old or suffering from the first stages of Alzheimer’s? Was I going mad?
My guide quieted my frazzled nerves by letting me in on one of the little secrets of the new and improved mall. The North end of the mall was now situated in a circle. What kind of fucking sadistic designer thought this would be a good idea? We older folks don’t like change, especially ones that involve figuring out a maze when trying to buy a pair of pants.
In addition to the new layout there are dozens of little kiosks in the center of the aisles, which just adds to the confusion not to mention the crowded feel. It almost takes on a circus atmosphere. Many of the people who man these little booths circle like sharks looking for their next victim, I mean customer. I quickly learned one thing while walking through the gauntlet. Don’t pause no matter how shinny or interesting the gadget looks. If you do, be prepared to spend some time there.
I made the mistake of doing this with a little trinket called the “Car Baby”. If you ever wondered where car salesmen or high-pressure telemarketers go when they leave those professions they go here. The second I stopped I was toast. This ass wipe was all over me with the same tactless fervor of a sideshow Carney trying to get you to throw a baseball at metal milk bottles.
Touting the must have benefits of the “Car Baby”, as if he was on speed, he couldn’t be stopped. After two minutes of his adrenaline fueled sales pitch all I wanted was to get away. By the way, the “Car Baby” is a wireless device that allows you to talk on your cell phone while listening to the caller over your car stereo. Nice, but I hate talking on my cell phone while driving, hands free or not. If it sounds like something you might want you can just walk up and buy it without listening to this motor mouth for 15 minutes.
Being an adult and also knowing when to use the word “no” is a benefit when dealing with these types of sales predators. Being a teenager with money who is attracted to shinny objects and does not know the word no, makes them fair prey for these guys. I would like to pass on a word of warning to any parents who send their kids to the mall with a cell phone and money.
If you can, tell your kids no matter how persuasive the salesman is, and no matter how shinny and cool that colored cover for their cell phone may look, just say no. As I discovered just the other day as I was reinstalling my kids’ original covers, they are pieces of shit. Not only are they cheaply constructed and break from the inside out, they also severely hamper the quality of the volume, vibration, and the sound of the ring tone of the phone. My kids were suckered in by these assholes who told them their phones would work the same, but they don’t. Parents, consider this information an early Christmas gift from me to you.
I am sure that I will not be going to the mall any time soon after Christmas is over, but I want to thank my daughter and guide Rachel for the gift of helping me better understand that once mysterious place called the mall.
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