I,
like so many others before me, have had to venture into a place both dark and
sinister. A place that welcomes all but wishes none to leave. I am, of course,
referring to the mall. Yes, the mall, perhaps the very bane of my existence
where store after store informs me that I am ill equipped to face the world as
I now stand, and all my needs can be met today for a price 25% less than it was
yesterday. I enter, pretending it is of my own free will, but this is just an
illusion. It brought me here; it knew I had to come eventually.
I am under the impression that the
mall maintains a minimum population at all times, residents even. These I call “the
mall people.” I make my way through their midst, trying to hide the fact that I
am not one of them, hoping they will not notice that my every step forward
carries with it the caution that it could just as easily be a step back, mainly
because I have no idea where I’m going. In spite of this, I remind myself that
I have to keep my eyes forward and my steps sure in order to avoid the massage
therapists that would flock and insist I look tense and could use a little
relaxation. Just keep walking, even if it means I’m walking in circles.
Arriving at whatever destination I
may be looking for, the battle is not over. Smells of leather, new clothes, and
maybe even crop-dusting-volumes of cologne immediately affront the senses and cloud
the mazes of merchandise in a fog of “stay, look around for a while.” I’m
amazed at the intelligence network that the mall undoubtedly employs because no
matter what it is I’m looking for, they have discovered it beforehand and
hidden it in the farthest corner to insure that I see everything else they have
to offer before fulfilling my original errand. The consistency with which they
do this almost elicits a sense of admiration; they’re good at what they do.
Finally, checking out, a high school
student smiles and asks, “Did you find everything all right today?” I refrain
from muttering “Just barely,” and return the smile. I decline to mention that I
spent 15 minutes looking in the women’s section of clothing before I realized
where I was, and even after I corrected my error, it took me another 10 minutes
to realize the shirt I was after was hidden behind the headless mannequin
sporting the summer’s trendiest swimwear. Clutching my plastic bag in hand, I
resume what I hope is my incognito walk back to the entrance from which I came.
At least, I think it was the entrance from which I came. I can never be
absolutely sure.
Emerging into the light of outdoors,
I intake a deep breath of free air. It’s all I can do not to throw my fist in
the air and shout “I survived!” Instead, I shuffle forward in front of a car
that so kindly stopped for me and try to remember where I parked.
