Post by Mil on Nov 23, 2011 23:32:15 GMT -5
Yes, Thanksgiving is here — which means even before Thursday’s feast is digested the Christmas season will be ushered in by the truly terror-inspiring adventure known as “Black Friday.” Of course, given this starts earlier and earlier every year — I actually heard some store chains are opening their doors at midnight or earlier this time around (not to mention those running online sales even before that) — it’s no longer clear precisely where Thanksgiving Day ends and Black Friday begins (although I have no doubt “Thanksgiving” comes around again immediately upon arriving home from the crazed Black Friday crowds).
A couple years back I touched on this topic in a Mil Mania newsletter issue’s intro, upon having experienced it up close and personal for the very first time. In that case, my husband and I were already in the market for a new television to replace our early 90’s model, the picture on which had grown so dim I frequently found myself rooting for the wrong team when watching football. “I can’t make out the numbers, but that is a blue jersey, right? ... Go, man, go! … Yay, touchdown! … Oops, guess it was green…”
Still, we had no plans to fight the madding throngs — and given Webster notes the definition of madding as “raving” or “frenzied” it’s indeed the perfect word to describe these mobs. That is to say, we had no plans to do so until...we happened to be reading the newspaper while allowing Thanksgiving dinner to settle, and ran across an ad for just the TV we wanted at an unbelievably low price — at a store which would begin selling these at 5 (yes, in the morning).
Needless to say, we didn’t have much time to ponder this matter… especially since we and our fellow feasters stayed up playing the board game Cranium until 2 (in itself probably a bit of insight into our own cranial abnormalities…).. Having prevailed at this challenge, and barely dozing by 4, it might be said we were too high on our victory (or tryptophan) and delirious from fatigue (again I refer you to tryptophan) to fully weigh our folly when we found ourselves actually leaving the house about 30 minutes later. It only took a moment of the frigid late autumn air hitting our faces, however, to begin our journey back to reality...an odyssey made complete when we arrived at 4:40 to find a line extending from the front of the anchor, all the way past the other stores in the strip, and finally wrapping up at the rear of the entire complex. What in the world had we got ourselves into?!?
Ah well, having come this far, it hardly made sense to turn back now. So, we gamely took our spots in line and listened in stunned silence to the conversations swirling around us. It seems some of the shoppers had actually arrived at 3:45, and others had scoped out the goods available days before...which proved a boon to us when Andre’s gregarious nature prompted him to start chatting with a few fellow shoppers himself. Upon noting we were there for a particular TV, the die-hards informed us an overstock of merchandise for this auspicious occasion had spilled certain electronics into the clothing section, and we were given the exact locale of our “prize.” Further, to amuse himself, Andre walked up the entire line asking who was there for a plasma TV. Some folks merely glared at this obvious nut job...apparently forgetting where they were at this frigid, pre-dawn hour — and that sometimes it really does take one to spot another member of its kind.
Most seemed to welcome the distraction, though, and he was feeling pretty good when he returned to report he’d only encountered about a handful who were looking for “our” item. When these had asked why he was so inquiring, I should mention, he further amused himself by ad-libbing, “Because they only have three, and I want one!” Everyone laughed, sure the supply must be at least a wee bit greater than that...which, of course, we thought as well. Again, I remind you of that word until — as it here applies to until we actually made it into the store, ducking under and scurrying past the bodies flying everywhere as bargain hunters pushed and shoved their way to Christmas joy — eventually arriving at the designated spot...just in time to claim the fifth — and final — TV of our choice.
Anyway, that adventure happily concluded, I share it here in part as a warning to anyone new to this full-contact-sport form of shopping — and in part to remind myself never to attempt such a reckless pursuit again. Of course, the real irony to this event ushering in the season of “giving,” and the myriad of “stuff” being purchased for the purpose of sharing with family and friends is that I don’t even buy most of my Christmas gifts in the first place. I make them. Being an “artist insane,” I think nothing captures the spirit of the season more completely than sharing one’s own “gifts,” and encourage anyone reading this who hasn’t done so before to “give” this practice a try. Even if the results aren’t quite museum quality, I suspect the appreciation for such heartfelt efforts will prove priceless.
It’ll also increase your chance of waking up on Christmas with all your teeth and limbs intact —- which is worth quite a bit in itself, if you ask me.
A couple years back I touched on this topic in a Mil Mania newsletter issue’s intro, upon having experienced it up close and personal for the very first time. In that case, my husband and I were already in the market for a new television to replace our early 90’s model, the picture on which had grown so dim I frequently found myself rooting for the wrong team when watching football. “I can’t make out the numbers, but that is a blue jersey, right? ... Go, man, go! … Yay, touchdown! … Oops, guess it was green…”
Still, we had no plans to fight the madding throngs — and given Webster notes the definition of madding as “raving” or “frenzied” it’s indeed the perfect word to describe these mobs. That is to say, we had no plans to do so until...we happened to be reading the newspaper while allowing Thanksgiving dinner to settle, and ran across an ad for just the TV we wanted at an unbelievably low price — at a store which would begin selling these at 5 (yes, in the morning).
Needless to say, we didn’t have much time to ponder this matter… especially since we and our fellow feasters stayed up playing the board game Cranium until 2 (in itself probably a bit of insight into our own cranial abnormalities…).. Having prevailed at this challenge, and barely dozing by 4, it might be said we were too high on our victory (or tryptophan) and delirious from fatigue (again I refer you to tryptophan) to fully weigh our folly when we found ourselves actually leaving the house about 30 minutes later. It only took a moment of the frigid late autumn air hitting our faces, however, to begin our journey back to reality...an odyssey made complete when we arrived at 4:40 to find a line extending from the front of the anchor, all the way past the other stores in the strip, and finally wrapping up at the rear of the entire complex. What in the world had we got ourselves into?!?
Ah well, having come this far, it hardly made sense to turn back now. So, we gamely took our spots in line and listened in stunned silence to the conversations swirling around us. It seems some of the shoppers had actually arrived at 3:45, and others had scoped out the goods available days before...which proved a boon to us when Andre’s gregarious nature prompted him to start chatting with a few fellow shoppers himself. Upon noting we were there for a particular TV, the die-hards informed us an overstock of merchandise for this auspicious occasion had spilled certain electronics into the clothing section, and we were given the exact locale of our “prize.” Further, to amuse himself, Andre walked up the entire line asking who was there for a plasma TV. Some folks merely glared at this obvious nut job...apparently forgetting where they were at this frigid, pre-dawn hour — and that sometimes it really does take one to spot another member of its kind.
Most seemed to welcome the distraction, though, and he was feeling pretty good when he returned to report he’d only encountered about a handful who were looking for “our” item. When these had asked why he was so inquiring, I should mention, he further amused himself by ad-libbing, “Because they only have three, and I want one!” Everyone laughed, sure the supply must be at least a wee bit greater than that...which, of course, we thought as well. Again, I remind you of that word until — as it here applies to until we actually made it into the store, ducking under and scurrying past the bodies flying everywhere as bargain hunters pushed and shoved their way to Christmas joy — eventually arriving at the designated spot...just in time to claim the fifth — and final — TV of our choice.
Anyway, that adventure happily concluded, I share it here in part as a warning to anyone new to this full-contact-sport form of shopping — and in part to remind myself never to attempt such a reckless pursuit again. Of course, the real irony to this event ushering in the season of “giving,” and the myriad of “stuff” being purchased for the purpose of sharing with family and friends is that I don’t even buy most of my Christmas gifts in the first place. I make them. Being an “artist insane,” I think nothing captures the spirit of the season more completely than sharing one’s own “gifts,” and encourage anyone reading this who hasn’t done so before to “give” this practice a try. Even if the results aren’t quite museum quality, I suspect the appreciation for such heartfelt efforts will prove priceless.
It’ll also increase your chance of waking up on Christmas with all your teeth and limbs intact —- which is worth quite a bit in itself, if you ask me.