My favorite part about this holiday season is hands-down the black Friday shopping. I wake, bleary-eyed at 4 in the morning and scamper out to the mall; leftover Thanksgiving ham in hand. I have wrangled several friends into this tradition over the years. We decimate the mall and take advantage of all the early bird deals. It's not only the shopping, the excuse to eat doughnuts, or well deserved afternoon nap that I love: it's the people-watching. 21
Women with fatigued and fussy four year old kids, frantically searching for the perfect Christmas gift. Random groups of Japanese tourists all sporting matching shirts and Mickey Mouse ears. Ladies grabbing those shoes like it's the only pair they've ever seen. Ah, the beauty and majesty of humans reduced to our baser animal instincts. The instinct for savings.
Tragically this year I am in England and they do not give a hoot about our quaint American traditions. They also don't do ANY pumpkin here. No pumpkin pie, no pumpkin spiced lattes, nada. It's a travesty. Anyway, I have recently been having dreams that are set inside a mall. More than one. Today when I was watching Dawn of the Dead, in between screaming at the zombies, I felt a sense of loss that I was not currently in a mall mapping out my black friday master plan.
Maybe my inability to engage in a massive consumerist mob will be a humbling experience that will make me less materialistic. Or maybe I'll cry.
Either way I need to re-assess my priorities so I stop dreaming about the mall.