The Saddest Place During Christmas; The Mall

Whoever said this is the “happ-happiest time of the year” is a liar. A filthy, dirty liar. Well, the blog subtitle is “Saying what needs to be said” and this needs to be said.

So why am I writing a post like this at this time of the year? 1) Because it needs to be expressed and 2) did you really expect anything less of me on Xmas week? This isn’t some fantastical Hallmark Channel movie, kids.

 And really, this is the result of a visit to one of the saddest places on the face of the Earth; the Mall. 

Santa went to the Taco Bell, kids. He'll be back Thursday.

OK, I will frame this by saying it’s Tuesday, December 20^th, about noon. So if you’re at the mall, it’s either on your lunch break or you had to eat a personal day to (start and) finish your shopping. (Or you’re unemployed, but no one cares about the jobless on Xmas.) As I enter the mall (which I haven’t been into in ages), one thing is bloody apparent; no one is smiling. Not one shopper. Not one retail employee. Not. One. Whatever Disneyland is purportedly to happiness, the American Mall Xmas week is the exact same for unhappiness. 

"This...is...bullshit."

It conflicts with my laid back, almost surfer-like attitude. I don’t deal well with the “hustle and bustle.” I don’t like dealing with crowds. It’s just a lot of work for negligible return on investment. All this shopping, hustling and bustling, and Xmas just goes by. I’m left holding some new socks, a full belly and sick of everyone.

So where was I? The mall, right. Apparently, this mall has one of the last remaining Sears in existence. I enter through Sears, where I see a healthy amount of shoppers, and almost zero employees. From here, I enter the mall itself. Where there also appears to be a healthy amount of shoppers, I don’t really know how to tell. And like I said, no one is happy. There’s even jackoffs wearing Santa hats that are unhappy. I’m at the mall because I have to buy a girlie calendar for my brother.

Like, I can't even tell what month this is. But I'm not really complaining.

 It’s tradition that we buy each other girlie calendars. I’m pretty sure the Currier and Ives mentioned in “Sleigh Ride” were actually early nudie photographers. The more you know, right?

Right.

I enter on the first floor because that’s where the store I needed to go to used to be. Last year. Since then, it has seen fit to further my rage with the mall during the holidays by moving ALL THE WAY to the third floor. Bloody hell. Since I have some walking to do, I decide to put myself squarely in the river of holiday shoppers to see what I discern. Maybe I am missing something here. Maybe I have been wrong all these years, and I just need some time to see the true beauty of the holida…..

Nope, no, fuck it. I see people clearly spent. I see grown men wandering around like they are zombies. I see young children running about loose. Their parents probably just leave and let the mall work that problem out.

"Mommy said to stay."

I walk by the court where Santa and Mrs. Claus are. Does Mrs. Claus have a first name? Doris? Phyllis? Beyonce? I don’t know, so we’ll just call her Mrs. C. (On an unrelated note, I used to have a teacher we called Mrs. C, but her last name certainly wasn’t Claus ifyaknowwhatImean.) The Claus’ are true pros; they are smiling and seem genuinely happy. I imagine it’s because they roofied each other at the start of their shift, and they know in less than a week they’re vacationing in the Keys. I wind my way around to the escalators to get to the third floor. As I get to the third floor, I am shocked about how you never hear of any jumpers in this mall. I can’t imagine there are many three story malls left these days. And this is certainly the time of year for that sort of thing. I wonder if ‘mall security’ is trained to even spot potential jumpers. I mean, I was openly sobbing like a widow for a good twenty minutes, and no one ever checked on me. I compose myself and walk past the Bath and Bodyworks store. I see about half a dozen husbands just staring down at the first floor. The mall might want to move this store down to the first floor, just sayin'.

"This....is...bullshit."

Like an assassin, I was in and out. And I wish I was an assassin, because I could have used a firearm in the parking lot. While it wasn’t overly crowded, drivers were still finding creative ways to be assholes. Parking, not using turn signals, not looking when they pulled out in traffic. I think the best thing most people can get for Xmas is a freaking clue.

So I had escaped the saddest place during Christmas. I feel lucky, for all I know, there could be folks that just get trapped there and never leave; doomed to never find where they parked their car or desperately trying to redeem their mall bonus points for something at Orange Julius. I can rest easy; for the half naked girl on my calendar says I don’t have to go back for another year.