28 August 2000
Reluctantly, I went to the Satan's Work (tm) Mall From Hell (commonly known as the Mall of America) on Sunday. Sometimes, like when you have worn holes in all of your favorite pants and need new ones sooner than shopping online can deliver them, these things are necessary. I know that going to malls on weekends is idiotic at best (psychotic-break-inducing at worst), but thanks to my office peon Monday through Friday nine-to-five schedule, the weekend is what I'm left with. I'll spare you the gory details, but I did hit upon 2 key realizations:
1) You know how "they say" that America is one year behind Europe in fashion, music, etc.? I can prove it. In two different stores, at two different times, I heard two different songs that -- you guessed it -- were popular in nightclubs in Amsterdam when I was there. A year ago. Ha.
2) At one point while standing, frustrated and eyes glazed over, in the middle of some store catering primarily to teenaged girls, my last few remaining brain cells poked the back of my eyeballs and said "Hey! Hey you! You just turned 20. 'Twenty,' in case you hadn't noticed, does not end in 'teen.' You don't have to be here anymore, flagellating yourself with size 2 jeans designed with underfed homecoming queens in mind. You are free! Hie thee somewhere that sells clothes for people who actually eat." It was truly magical.