Black Friday

Ahhhh, Black Friday, the happiest of all shopping days. What is it about Black Friday that is so appealing? I cannot put my finger on it. I started the early morning shopping in high school with my mom. Eventually my dad tagged along, and we made a day out of it, usually getting breakfast when it became a reasonable hour to do so. Today Kohl's opened at 4:00. A little extreme, I think. Eventually, stores will open at midnight, until Black Friday becomes Black Thursday, and turkey dinners are put on hold while women all over are trampling each other at noon for $3.99 DVDs, $200 laptops, and $4.99 pajama pants.

There's something about Black Friday that brings women together, while at the same time tearing them apart. First, there's the camaraderie that we share as we stand in line. It turns into a man's game, where we start comparing who got here the earliest, who's been standing in line the longest, who's spent the most so far. You do spend so much time standing in line that you actually become friends with the ladies around you. In my case, they just start talking to me and I'm just trying to stay awake. The camaraderie ends, however, the second the doors open, then it's every woman for herself. One year my poor dad was nearly crushed by a rather large woman with bounding breasts who proclaimed, "Get outta my way! I'm coming through!" Dad hid behind the doors for his safety. The survivor that he is, he still shops early morning sales with my mom to this day.

I have always shopped early since I started with my mom. I typically do not buy anything. Probably b/c I have no money. But mostly b/c whatever I want is already gone by the time I get there. But there's something about being up at the crack of dawn the day after Thanksgiving that seems to kick off the Christmas season. Last night my sisters in law decided they weren't getting up early, but were going to go shopping at 11am instead. Bummed, I talked Derrick into going to Kohl's at 6:00--not at opening, but still early enough to be a part of the hustle and bustle. It was packed. I found something that my sister in law had wanted for her daughter
-it was the only one left-so I grabbed it and called her and told her I would get it for her. Then I looked for the end of the line. Yikes. It was wrapped around the entire store, and then looped around again. 2 hour wait, they were saying. (BF folklore, I'm sure.) Well, I sure wasn't waiting for 2 hours for one thing. So I hid it behind a stack of clocks and went home to bed. I went back at 10, my item still safely hidden behind the clocks, thinking the line would have died down. Nope. Still back to customer service. Not 2 hours, they say, but only 45 minutes. Still too long for me. Armed with a viable Pick-a-day worth an extra 15% off, I headed to the front of the line. I approached a lady with an armful of stuff and offered her my proposition: Let me stand with you and I'll let you use my coupon. Now, on this day of gluttony and propulsion into further consumer debt, if you are up at the crack of dawn to save a few bucks, don't you think you'd want to save an extra 15% as well? Not this lady. She was concerned about the people around her that had been waiting with her. Wow. When did compassion have a starring role on Black Friday? Then I remembered I was in Little Utah: Gilbert, AZ.

I ditched the gift and told my sister in law to look online.

Then 8 of us headed to Arizona Mills Mall. Gigantic. Lots of deals, lots of sitting on dressing room floors trying to convince my sisters in law that they look good in everything they tried on. For some reason they refuse to believe it. We wouldn't tell you it looked good if it didn't. Do you think we want to be seen with you wearing something ugly and that doesn't fit right? Please. We're thinking of ourselves here, too. :) I scored some awesome deals: dress for $1.97, shirt for $3.99, and Christmas gifts for Derrick.

I'm pretty tired now, and Derrick and my brother in law are downstairs watching last years BYU/Utah game, getting pumped for tomorrow's game. Dorks.

Cheers to you, Black Friday. Until next year.