So I went to the mall today. It was, as always, a very interesting experience. As most, if not all of you know, the mall is a very busy place around Christmas. I am well aware of this phenomenon as well, but I had an urgent gift need that of course I had procrastinated on, so I decided to brave the dangers anyway.
To start things off I accidentally drove the wrong direction down the parking row. I propose that in the interest of customer safety, and in preparation for the Holiday season, all malls should repaint the direction arrows of their parking lots, as almost every one I have seen has been an almost invisible dingy yellow!
So after surviving my happy drive into the parking lot, I actually found a decent parking space, and stepped out of my car. After checking thoroughly to be sure I had the specifications of the item I was there to buy written down on a sticky note of course. I made my way across the parking lot toward the doors and towering edifice of the Macy’s department store I was there to visit. I took a deep breath, and timidly walked through the door nicely held open by a friendly, yet exhausted looking Salvation Army volunteer.
At least, I assume she was a Salvation Army volunteer, and not an imposter. She was missing two important aspects of the typical Salvation Army personnel. She was sans Santa suit, and she was only feebly ringing her little bell, in clear violation of Salvation Army rule #1 which states that, “All volunteers must ring the bell loud enough to be heard 47 miles away, and ringing is only being done correctly if the volunteer observes numerous mall visitors heads cracking from the deafening din of the annoying little bell.” Ok, so maybe that last part was made up, but really, I think the whole reason Scrooge hated Christmas was the bell ringers. While we are on the subject of the Christmas Carol, it is an interesting side note that Tiny Tim’s prayer wasn’t “God bless us every one”, it was “God bless us every one, except those darn bell ringers”! Even Tiny Tim hated them!
But I digress. So, I timidly walked through the doors held up by the Salvation Army imposter, and was almost knocked down by the blast of Christmas music that roared from every speaker. Though disoriented by the music, I promptly turned around and memorized the entrance I had come through, as it is a well known fact that stores make every exit look exactly the same so as to cause you to walk forlornly across the entire state of Texas looking for your car after you have finished shopping. This is their subtle way of getting back at you for leaving their store after only spending half of your retirement on clothes…
So I staggered through the clothing departments looking for the most dreadful place of all. The cosmetics section. I have a special dread of the cosmetics section. For one thing, it smells like, well cosmetics. And then one has to deal with the noxious fumes of the nearby perfume sales areas. Department store perfume is, in my opinion, in clear violation of the Geneva convention’s statements on the use of poison gas.
So I made my way gasping and shuddering with horror toward the cosmetics, wishing I had a full chemical suit, or at least a gas mask. I headed toward a cluster of workers, and was fortunate that the item was in stock, and I didn’t have to go somewhere else to find it. Had I been faced with that chilling prospect, I would most likely have committed Hari Kari as I would have been too distraught to continue living if I had needed to enter another cosmetics section!
After procuring my item, I decided to venture out into the true nightmare, the actual mall. The confines of Macy’s that had up to this point looked foreign, now seemed like a comforting cocoon compared to the insane hive of activity that was the mall! I cautiously crept from the department store and into the Mall like an intrepid jungle explorer on safari, to observe the foreign environment, and the different species of mall inhabitants.
The roaring Christmas music was still present, but it was mixed with a cacophonous sound of hundreds of voices. As I stepped into the mall, I noticed that the Christmas sales bonanza was in full swing. The monoliths of merchandising were out to squeeze every last dime from this Christmas season. Christmas trees adorned every little alcove, and fake branches festooned the borders of most of the stores. Little silver and gold ornaments flashed brightly from all angles. “Happy Holidays”, and “Season’s Greetings” banners were interspersed all throughout the walkways. Of course, there were no “Merry Christmas” banners, because no one wants to offend the lone Kwanzaa gift shopper, and if you thought that only Seinfeld’s George Constanza celebrated “Festivus”, you’d be terribly wrong. The department stores are doing bad enough this recession, they sure can’t afford to offend those 14 Americans who don’t celebrate Christmas by acknowledging the specific name of that divisive holiday! Right…
I walked through the mall looking for a directory, which is nearly impossible to find by the way. As I walked, I noticed the occasional mall security guard standing tall, like a noble sentinel guarding the safety of so many innocent people. The image was shattered as I drew near, as it appeared that many of them bore traces of Cinnabon glaze on their stern faces… So, while walking along, and trying to dispel amusing images from the movie “Mall Cop”, I finally stumbled upon a directory. I then realized that I had gone the opposite way from the Apple store, and would have to go all the way back towards the way I had just come in! The plus side was that I got to have a longer time for my observation of the mall inhabitants.
The previously mentioned cacophonous voices blending with the Christmas music belonged to hundreds of different people who somehow all looked similar. I shall attempt to categorize the life forms.
First I noticed large herds of school aged children running like packs of deranged hyenas across the halls, decked out in ridiculous the plumage of the skinny jeans and other ludicrous articles of clothing that they love so much. The kids were enjoying their brief reprieve from the endless drudgery of school. One such group of kids suddenly surrounded me as they hurriedly passed by, and one of the herd inexplicably let out a bloodcurdling shriek that almost knocked me out of my reverie of observation. I turned to see what the problem was, and apparently the reason was because they remembered that it was time to see Santa Claus. (yes, they were highschoolers) I don’t know exactly why that realization needed to be accompanied by a shriek, but then again, I’m not a mall hyena. If I sound like an old fart, it is because I am one!
Then I observed (very close up, as I almost ran into them) the lumbering elephants of those mall walkers who for some inexplicable reason feel the need to travel at glacial speeds. They not only seem to walk unbelievably slow, but they seem to travel in slow moving packs to best impede those mall shoppers who would actually like to get somewhere before tomorrow. I was watching some of the older ones, and I have come up with a hypothesis. My hypothesis is that someone brought them to the mall right after they learned how to walk, and that they have spent their entire lives walking from one end of the mall to the other. They might just make it to the other side before they die, but I don’t know, it will be close. In all seriousness, (yeah right) I think an invading army of three toed sloths would appear to be moving double time compared to the slow moving behemoths that inhabit the mall.
Then I ran into those people who I like to call the “mall Salmon”. You have all seen them; they are the folks who for whatever reason feel the need to walk against the flow of mall traffic, and every sense of human logic. They look like Salmon swimming upstream as they wriggle through the tide of people flowing one direction, oblivious to the realization that things would be easier for all concerned if they would just STAY ON THE RIGHT SIDE! Er, ahem,…
But anyway, one can only speculate on the causes of this intriguing phenomenon. Maybe they were dropped on their heads as children, maybe they all came over here from Europe, and don’t grasp the regular direction of traffic, maybe they are on crack, or maybe, (and to my mind far more likely) they are the bad drivers you see on the road, and they are displaying the same callous disregard for walking conventions as they do for driving conventions. So if we our government ever starts wholesale exterminations of people, I’m voting for the extermination of the mall Salmon first! Maybe it will make driving easier for the rest of us! (I’m only half joking)
The last major species I encountered was the mall “peacock”. These are the people who look like they have it all together. The girls have bleached blond hair, name brand clothes, and enough makeup on to prep out 300 circus clowns. And the guys have bleached blond hair, and name brand clothes. A few of them had makeup too, but only a few… All of them looked like the models pictured on the walls of the Abercrombie and Hollister stores suddenly became animated and walked among us. I noted them as they strode through the mall, laden with armloads of expensive gifts, heedless of the other “animals”, because they were the ones with the prettiest plumage. Their smiles were as plastic as the cards they were maxing out to buy their Christmas gifts. As I watched them, I kept having the urge to hum “Barbie Girl”…
So I finally arrived at the Apple store to ask a question of the all knowing Genius bar workers. As I stepped out of the store, I took one more look at the people in the mall. It was kind of like those moments in movies where time seems to stand still. I could see each of the different members of the “mall animal kingdom”, scurrying around with their gifts, but it was as though they couldn’t see me. The sound of “It’s the most wonderful time of the year” seemed to slow down, and I started to think. Why is it the most wonderful time of the year? You certainly wouldn’t know it from the way these people were acting. They are spending so much money, and fighting one another for parking spaces, on sale items, and everything in between.
Our whole culture doesn’t understand why it is truly the most wonderful time of the year. We make spoof movies that are all the more funny because we see ourselves in the characters. Movies where we put up with visiting relations, try to one up the neighbors with the Christmas decorations, and just generally lose sight of the real reason we celebrate Christmas.
I wonder if we really understand that the best Christmas gift has already been given. That despite what the marketers at the department stores would have us believe, Christmas isn’t about giving expensive gifts to people, and trying to pay off the credit cards all year until next Christmas rolls around. We already have the most expensive gift ever. The gift of Jesus Christ.
Isaiah 9:6 tells us, “For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.”
That is the real meaning of Christmas. Ostensibly we celebrate Christmas as the anniversary of Jesus’ birth. I think a lot of us lose perspective on Christmas in the middle of our crazed gift buying and wrapping, and I hope that we can all come back to the true understanding that Christmas isn’t about all of the insane commercialization that we see today. Christmas is really about the celebration of the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Our Lord came from Heaven in the humble form of a human child with the full knowledge that He would be crucified some 30 years later to redeem His creation which was lost in sin. This sacrifice was to give us the greatest gift we could ever imagine, the gift of Eternal Life.
So this Christmas, why don’t we all try and keep the real meaning in mind? Sure we can watch the corny movies, and enjoy (or tolerate) the relatives, but lets also thank God for the gift that He gave us over 2,000 years ago in a little town in Bethlehem. Because no matter how disguised that story may be, or how deeply buried it is under all the superficial Christmas trappings, the love of our Savior, and His precious gift to us, is the real meaning of Christmas.
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