Monument of Consumerism

It was my own fault to even be in this situation in the first place. Every year I do this to myself and every year I always promise that I will never do it again. Every year I promise that I will change, turn over a new leaf, call my Mom more, read a book, something. This year proved itself to be no different. I stood where I have stood for as long as I can remember, the mall on Christmas Eve. I have an uncanny ability to end up here, some sort of gravitational pull that lures me every 24^th of December like a moth to a flame.

           I sit in my car blasting Black Sabbath, to me a nice juxtaposition to the songs that will be assaulting my ears as soon as I enter this monument of consumerism. I can’t help but see the irony of people leaving their houses to purchase thoughtful gifts for loved ones all while pushing over a kid in a wheelchair and a pregnant lady to do it. Exiting my car, I feel as if I’m a soldier heading into battle. An imaginary phone call runs through my head to my ex-wife. Hey Sara, it’s me. I don’t know if I’ll make it. Tell Caleb I love him. Sara, I’m sorry it didn’t work out between us. Just know that in my final moments before being trampled to death in front of a Cinnabon, it was you that was in my thoughts.

           I walk through the parking lot and make a mental note about parking at the Orange entrance. The last thing that I need is not being able to find my car, if I make it out alive of course. Upon entering, I am instantly hit with that song that goes,

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart. But the very next day, you gave it away.

It makes me glad that I was blasting Sabbath at an unhealthy decibel. Fumbling through my pockets, I realize that the list that I was smart enough to make was sitting on the little table where I grab my keys before I leave the house. I was off to a good start. My list is somewhat short these days. Sara, Caleb, Mom, Dad. I was moderately more prepared than previous years as I have already bought presents for my two brothers. Even though we have been separated for more than a year, I can still hear Sara’s voice yelling at me for being so unprepared.

           David, you had all year to buy your son a few Christmas presents! Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time at that damn golf course or on a bar stool somewhere you would have remembered! And maybe we’d still be married!

           The imaginary lecture that I had received made every muscle in my body tense up. A wry smile appears on my face as I briefly think about buying noise-cancelling headphones for her new husband, the rich doctor. And on the headphones, I will leave a note that says,

Thank me later, you will be needing these!

           The crowds, Christmas music, and getting yelled at by voices in my head force me to take a break before I even get started. The Orange entrance brings you directly past the food court where I eat bad Chinese food before I enter the abyss. I’m the only one sitting at the sea of tables without being surrounded by bags. I pass the sporting goods store where I will get a gift for Dad, but I decide to save him for last as I do not want to carry around a brand new nine iron around the mall. Although it might be useful to fight off the onslaught of last-minute shoppers.

          I buy some candles for Sara and my Mom at the same store. Her voice echoes through my head once again, now overpowering the crooning of Bing Crosby. Wow David, how completely thoughtful and original of you! Well done! According to one of those impossible to read maps, I believe that the video game store is up here somewhere. There it is! About five storefronts down on the right. I walk past a Victoria’s Secret which is full of terrified and confused men attempting to dance that fine line of buying a gift that is the right size for their significant other. I remember my one and only time attempting to buy sexy lingerie for Sara there. It was probably about four or five Christmases ago, and I was a terrified man wandering the aisles just like them. I finally find some lacy, blue lingerie that I was very proud of myself for locating. That Christmas Eve, when Caleb was already fast asleep, I had her open it. I sat back on the couch with a cocky grin thinking that she would be over the moon about it, and she would quickly go throw it on. She took one look at the tag and said,

Do you really think I could fit into this? This must be for your other girlfriend.

           I pass the terrified men in Victoria’s Secret and the just plain confused men in the store that sells fancy and overpriced lotions, soaps, and bath towels. Two teenage girls stand in the doorway giving out samples of lotion, but just passing the entryway I am bombarded with an amalgam of perfumy soapy smells that have all formed into one offensive smell. I give a polite smile and wave my hand dismissively. As I approach the red lights of GameStop, I once again here Sara’s voice. This time she drowns out Feliz Navidad. I know you’re in between jobs right now, but Caleb is dying to get a Nintendo Switch. If it’s too much, I can just have Richard get one. Over my dead body. The truth was it was definitely too much for my budget. But there was no way in hell Richard was going to get one for Caleb instead of me. I ask one of the acne-ridden teens behind the counter for a Nintendo Switch. He scoffed at me and began a diatribe about how lucky I was that there was any left in stock, and how most people scooped them up months ago. I smiled through gritted teeth. Just go get the damn thing. He finished his speech and unlocked a glass display case and fetched me the gift that my son has been dreaming about. And it would be from me. I cross my fingers as he swipes my almost maxed out credit card, but it goes through. The halls were jam packed in both directions with panicked people and people who you could tell planned out each stop using yarn and pinning pictures to one of those bulletin boards on wheels like cops do in the movies. If my mental list serves me correct, I only need to get the golf club and then escape.

           This stop proves to be the least stressful, as I at least knew what I was looking at. I find a nine iron that will suit Dad, and I was in and out of that store in under two minutes. Wishing I left a trail of bread crumbs, I end up at the Purple entrance. I turn around and the foot traffic almost comes to a screeching halt. We were approaching the line for kids to get their photos taken with Santa. I definitely did not see Santa by the Orange entrance. The bags instantly become heavier in my hands, and I grip the golf club until my knuckles turned white. Where the hell is Orange? Swallowing my pride, I ask a Security guard where the food court is, and I walk past the food court where I see some pour souls ordering greasy Lo Mein that still has my stomach in knots. I turn the corner and there it is, in all its glory, the Orange entrance. I can almost feel myself decompressing in my car in a few minutes before I leave, blasting Black Sabbath at full volume. I am so close, I am almost at the door when Sara reappears, this time drowning out Mariah Carey to my delight. David, he doesn’t have any games for it so make sure you get something. He’s been really into football lately so maybe a football game. But just make sure you get something. The implication made me angry when we had that conversation, and it was stressing me out now. Obviously, I’m not an idiot, I know that you need at least one video game with a video game system. Otherwise, it was a useless hunk of junk. It turns out I was an idiot. I get a Ginger Ale from a vending machine and sit back down in the food court as I psyche myself up enough to reenter Hell one last time. A massive individual on one of those motorized carts pulls up right next to me and starts to slurp down greasy mall food and lick his fingers. Seeing this sped up my decision to leave. Beyond Santa, up the escalator on the right, past the terrified men, past the confused men, grab a game, get the hell out of here. I follow my trail of bread crumbs all the way to GameStop where I stop in horror. The line, which was only four or five people before, now snaked through the entire store. I get in line and notice there is only one acne-ridden teenager manning the register now. The line doesn’t move for two minutes, and I enter the realms of a full-on panic attack. Sweat drips down through my eyebrows into my eyes. The walls begin to close in, and someone turned the heat up to one hundred degrees. The twerp behind the counter is completely overwhelmed, so before I fall over, I get out of line, grab a game, peel off the price tag and walk out of the store. I don’t feel particularly well about stealing, but I also didn’t feel too great about having a panic attack and falling on my face in front of a group of people. I speed walk all the way back to the escalator, having to maneuver the golf club I’m carrying at different angles to avoid tripping the other shoppers. I get to the Orange entrance, and this time I make it to the door when I hear another voice. It wasn’t Sara this time. It was someone else.

           “Sir.”

           I turn around to see two men with blue hats and black windbreaker jackets that say SECURITY on the back.

           “Sir, we’re going to need you to come with us.”

           I say nothing and follow them into an office in between a fancy clothes store I’ve never heard of and a Foot Locker. They say nothing else to me until they close the door and I sit down. One of them sits down at the desk and the other one leans against the wall. The one sitting down clears his throat and says,           

           “Mind if we take a look in your bag, sir?”

           They dump everything out on the desk and inspect it very closely. You could tell they loved their jobs and salivate at the chance of a moment just like this. The one who was leaning inspected my receipts, and in between chomping gum asked me if I had a receipt for the video game. They both stood there with annoying grins on their faces.

           “Listen, I know I screwed up. I was having a panic attack from the crowds and couldn’t handle the lines anymore. I really was planning on coming back to pay for it.”

           “Ya that’s not how it works. Why don’t you hang tight for a minute sir, we will be right back.”

           I am completely screwed. I can hear these rent-a-cops laughing at me from the other side of the door. They were most likely calling actual police, in which case I was very screwed. There is zero chance I am sitting through another lecture from Sara about how I need to get my life together. I take the nine iron and shove it through the handles of both doors. I grab the Nintendo Switch and the game. Through the back door of the office, I enter a long room loaded with monitors watching over every store. A coffee mug sits right in front of a monitor that displays GameStop. At the end of the room, I exit out a different door in the hallway by the bathrooms. No Security in sight. I walk as if I have nothing to hide into Macy’s where I buy a red sweater and a Santa hat, blending in with everyone else that seems to be full of Yuletide cheer. It really is a shame that I had to leave the golf club behind, looks like Dad is going to get a tie instead. There is no chance I’m leaving this mall via the Orange entrance anymore, I will need to get creative. Directly on the other side of the food court is the Blue entrance. Too close to take the chance. I walk for what seems like miles until the Red entrance is in my sight. Approaching at a brisk pace from the direction of the Red entrance were two police officers, not mall security. Doubling back, I spot the two guards who more than likely destroyed that beautiful new nine iron I left wedged in the door. I had already passed the escalator, I had nowhere to run. They were closing in on me. I was going to get arrested and Sara would never let me see Caleb ever again. Then I look up, Zoe’s Beauty Salon. I duck inside but realize they will spot me with the glass storefront.

           “Can I help you, sir?” says the woman behind the counter.

           “Are you Zoe?”

           “No. Can I help you sir?”

           Awkward silence.

           “What are those back there?” I say nodding my head towards the back of the salon.

           “Those? Those are tanning beds.”

           Laying in my fluorescent coffin, I pray that my problems will simply just pass me by. The claustrophobic feeling of the tanning bed is not ideal, but better than being in handcuffs. I would rather have to explain why I am orange tomorrow instead of why a grown man got arrested for shoplifting. I spend the next hour or so lurking by each of the mall’s entrances which are all heavily patrolled by either mall security or police. I wander into stores that I otherwise would never find myself in. I spend five minutes in a store that only sells calendars and I wonder how they stay open in months like July when no one has ever purchased a calendar. I’m at the counter buying a calendar of picturesque golf courses for Dad when the Christmas music pauses, and a voice comes through the speakers. Attention shoppers, the mall will be closing in 15 minutes. Please finalize your purchases and have a Happy Holiday!

           What the hell was I going to do? Every exit was blocked. It was time to turn myself in. I cannot hide in this mall forever. Those were the thoughts that should have been running through my brain. But instead, my brain brought me to Bed, Bath, and Beyond where I hid on a shelf, blocking myself with giant vinyl bags that carried comforters for king sized beds. I rip open a bag and get comfortable in my fort until the mall closes. I hear the five-minute announcement, and then about an hour later the lights turn off and I am locked in here for the night. I worry about motion sensor alarms, so I spend the next hour scrolling through my phone until I fall asleep.

           Eventually morning comes, and around 8:00 customers start flooding the aisles once again. They are open on Christmas? I peek through my pillow fort and determine that the coast is indeed clear. Once more, I walk through the mall in my Santa hat like I have nothing to hide. I make it to the Orange entrance and I don’t see anyone. Before leaving, I toss a dollar bill into the Salvation Army bucket where someone stands ringing a bell incessantly. She thanks me and tells me to have a Merry Christmas. Once there is pavement under my feet, I pick up the pace until I make it to the car. I have the Nintendo and my freedom, so I consider it a win overall. Leaning back in my driver’s seat, the opening riff of Black Sabbath’s Iron Man and the drag of a cigarette never tasted so sweet. My daydream is interrupted by my phone vibrating on my lap. It was Sara.

           “Hey Sara, I’ll be by later. I got the Nintendo.”

           “What are you talking about? You know that we are going to Richard’s parents for Christmas Eve. You’re coming over tomorrow, for Christmas morning. Remember?”

           “Tomorrow? On Christmas?”

           “What the hell are you talking about? Are you drunk? I was just checking if you got the damn thing or not. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

           I hang up my phone and look at the date. It was 8:47, December 24th. In my manic state of holiday stress and misery, I didn’t even realize that yesterday was not Christmas Eve. In good news, it looks like I will be ending my streak of going to the mall on Christmas Eve night. I really should go shopping and replace the presents I left in the Security office, but it is such a beautiful day. No snow on the ground on Christmas Eve? I’d be stupid if I didn’t go golfing. Maybe a few beers in the clubhouse after. Yessir, it was going to be a fine day.