Chapter Nine
Josh
Holy fucking cars, Batman.
I felt my mouth fall open as soon as we turned the corner onto the street that led to the store, unable to hold back my reaction to the chaos that was unfolding in front of me. All around us there was a cacophony of noise and I grimaced as I turned to look at Cristina.
"What the hell is that?" I asked.
"It's not Jingle Bells, I can tell you that much," she said as she added her car to the tightly packed processional that was filling the street, in some places creating a lane where one didn't exist.
The combination of honking, screaming, and engine revving seemed to get louder and I checked to make sure that the window was all the way up.
"Do they really think that making all that noise is going to make any difference?" I asked.
"Some of them do. They're the people who go through life thinking that the louder they get, the more convincing they are, and if they just act as forceful and angry as possible, they will always get their way. Then there are the ones who know very well that it doesn't matter how loud they get, they aren't going to go any faster, but they still want to be able to voice their displeasure and make sure that everyone around them is aware that they are seriously pissed off. Those are the people who go through life whining and complaining about things, but not really ever doing anything to fix the situations that they are in. Then there are the ones who don't know if it's going to make any difference, and don't really care. They just think it's all a part of the fun and excitement of the experience and just want to be a part of it. That's us."
She pressed down on the horn and let out a loud 'wooooooo', then sighed and turned off the car.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm not going to sit here and waste all my gas. Like you said, those gates aren't even open yet, and when they do, it's going to take an act of congress to get all these cars moving in any kind of rational pattern into the parking lot. Then it's the fun of seeing how many people get squished by other cars trying to get in while they are running across the lot to get to the store."
I was starting to see that the plans I thought were brilliant weren't exactly working out the way that I thought they would. I envisioned neat rows of cars proceeding in an orderly fashion into the parking lot, taking their rightful places according to order of arrival, and then lining up patiently. This would allow for a staggered entrance and less of a stampede. What I didn't envision was a woman dressed in what appeared to be a slutty Mrs. Claus Halloween costume climbing out of the sunroof of a sedan and running across the roofs of several cars in front of her before sliding off on her ass and skulking back to her car.
"So, what do we do now?" I asked.
"We could sing Christmas carols," Cristina suggested.
"Why not? You start."
"On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… a Partridge family CD."
"A what?"
"A Partridge family CD."
"I don't think those are the words."
"I know, but honestly, what am I supposed to do with a partridge in a pear tree? Pears are fairly limited culinarily speaking, and why does the partridge just stay there? Is he dead? That's not a festive gift."
"You are bothered by the concept of a bird and fresh fruit, but an outdated mode of musical entertainment from a group that hasn't been popular in your lifetime is perfectly alright."
"The heart wants what the heart wants, Josh."
"Fair enough. Take it away."
"On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…. two blue suede gloves and a Partridge family CD."
We had made our way all the way through ten bags for sleeping, nine ladles stirring, and eight tubes of caulking and were heading back toward five golden rings, because according to Cristina everyone wants jewelry for the holidays, when the revving of the engines outside grew louder and I realized that the cars were moving. Cristina cranked the engine and I felt a little jolt of excitement as we started our slow, but steady, approach toward the gates of the parking lot.
There were people getting out of their cars and walking toward the doors when we finally pulled into the lot and I glanced down at my watch. They weren't allowed to line up for another twenty minutes and I felt a sudden surge of defensiveness that didn't make any sense to me. I owned the store and had been the one to implement these procedures. I could have gotten out of the car, walked up the door, and gone right inside without anyone batting an eye at me. And yet I had a moment of smug satisfaction when the line jumpers got to the door and were promptly turned away by security.
Justice.
Behind us I heard the screeching of tires and I turned around to see a woman standing in front of a car flailing and screaming, the embedded lights on her Christmas sweater flashing furiously as if in solidarity with her fury that there dared be a car driving through a parking lot.
"See?" Cristina said. "Do you still think that this was a good plan?"
She had folded down her sun visor and was checking her lipstick in the mirror like she was preparing to go to war and was making sure her paint was in place.
"Maybe I was a little too stringent on the parking and lining up rules, but I still think that once you get inside and see the store, you're going to be impressed."
She looked at me like she sincerely doubted that and flipped the sun visor back into place.
"So that $300 you have in your wallet right now," she said.
"Yeah," I said, patting my pocket. "What's that all about? I thought you were the one shopping."
"I am, but you are, too. You can't just watch me. I've been doing this for years. I have the unfair advantage and will make it look far too easy. You need first-hand experience."
"Alright. But why couldn't I bring my credit card with me?"
"Because not everyone has a credit card that they can just grab whenever they feel like buying something. If you're going to do this, you're going to do it like the rest of us. That means that $300 you have is all you have, and you have to pretend that you've been saving for months to make sure that you had it. It's that important to you. OK?"
"OK," I said, starting to feel unsure. "So, I just have to go in there and spend $300?"
"You have to go in there and buy Christmas presents for your 15 family members, ranging in age from infant to 97. They will all be at your house Christmas morning, so they'll see what everyone else gets, too. No family gifts. No gift cards."
"Wait -- no gift cards? Why not?"
"A gift card is a nice supplement gift, but not when it's what you're supposed to be opening. Black Friday is about actual, tangible gifts and making the absolute most of the budget that you have. Gift cards don't usually get discounted, and when they do it's not very much. You know what that means…" she looked at me, paused for a second, and then nodded. "That's right. Distractamabob. You want to show each of your family members that you thought specifically of them when you picked up the gift, and that you love them. Are you ready?"
"Sure."
"Let's do this."
She threw open her door and I followed suit, but apparently not fast enough. By the time that I got to the front of the car, she was already sprinting toward the line along with the wall of people that was rapidly progressing across the lot. I took off after her, not wanting to see what these people would do if they saw me cut in front of them in line should Cristina get there before I did. We arrived at the barriers in time to be ushered up to the front of the line, only three people back from leading the charge. I felt strangely victorious, and yet angry at the people who got there first. I tried to peer around them to the glass doors, wanting to catch a glimpse of the displays, but just as I had instructed, the managers had put up large advertisements over the doors to keep such prying eyes from being able to see anything.
Behind us I felt the line starting to crush in, pressing us ever forward as though those few steps would make all the difference in the success or failure of that particular shopper. I knew that it was ridiculous, and yet I held my ground firmly, not wanting to give up those steps. They were mine and the little old lady behind me wearing the beanie cap that was decorated like a Christmas tree complete with bobbing topper couldn't have them. I felt a jolt as the line gave another hard push and I looked down at Cristina in surprise. She glanced up at me and laughed.
"Merry Christmas," she said.
A few moments later my phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out. I laughed and turned the screen toward Cristina.
"The manager says that the lines are really picking up."
She looked at the picture and reached up to use her fingers to zoom in on part of the image. She turned the phone back toward me and I saw us standing in the crush of people, the look on my face defiant as I resisted the eager shoppers behind me.
"You should tell them that according to insider information from your man on the street, things are getting serious."
The time that we spent in line seemed to stretch on forever, but finally I heard the rustling of paper and looked up to see the edges of the advertisements on the door moving.
"I think this is it," I said.
Cristina visibly braced herself.
"Stay as close to me as you can. It's easy to lose people, especially in the first few minutes. When you go in, you're shopping for Great Aunt Mirna."
"Who?" I asked, but before she had a chance to say anything, the doors opened, and I felt myself forced forward by the flow of people.
I started running, picking up the pace until I was moving at the speed of the onslaught and looked to my side to make sure that Cristina was still beside me.
"Head to the back corner!" she shouted.
"Who's Great Aunt Mirna?"
We ran for the main aisle, but she suddenly jagged to one side and dipped into a smaller side aisle, then ran directly into a clothing department, weaving through the displays with admirable grace and agility. I could only imagine that she spent a good portion of her year training for this by setting up dress forms in her front yard, or by infiltrating the high school football team and running drills with them. I followed the best I could, trying to orient myself to where we were in the store. Everything had been planned and laid out meticulously. In fact, I had been a major part of designing the layout, and yet the minute I ran into the store, all of that went straight to hell. I had no idea where I was or where we were going, and the people around me snatching things off of shelves and tearing items from racks were not helping the situation.
Finally, we burst out of the clothes and into a relatively calm back corner of the store.
"Are you still with me?" Cristina asked.
I realized that she had somehow acquired a shopping cart during our run and had several items in it that I had no idea where she found them.
"Who's Great Aunt Mirna?" I asked again, grateful that I had been upping my cardio game recently.
"She's the first person on your gift list. 90 years old. Loves watching soap operas during the day and game shows at night. The occasional action movie on the weekend. She weighs less than 100 pounds and refuses to install central heat in her house because she says that the technology hasn't been perfected yet."
I was getting ready to protest, but then a thought popped into my head. I scoured my brain for memories of the store schematic, trying to remember where we had planned the layout for the doorbusters. It snapped into my brain and I took off toward the other side of the store. A large metal bin loomed ahead of me, the huge doorbuster sign dangling overhead like a beacon to the shoppers around me. What I could see of the bin looked empty. My only hope was that there were still some hidden behind the cardboard display wrapped around the bin. I ran up to the bin, shamelessly stepping in front of another man who I recognized as trying to cut us off in the parking lot. I leaned over the side of the bin and eyed my target. One left.
A few minutes later I found Cristina wading through a fallen display of pillows and held up my bounty. She nodded with approval as I tossed the thick red and black plaid electric throw blanket into the cart among her steadily growing assortment of selections.
"Impressive choice," she said. "And a limited quantity doorbuster. Regular price $69.99, Black Friday special, $19.99. I'm surprised you got your hands on one of those."
"I may have done some things that I'm not proud of, but I regret nothing."
Cristina laughed.
"Well, don't get too full of yourself. That's just one gift. You've got 14 to go and time is ticking away. By now my sisters are probably on to their second store. Next, you're shopping for cousin Milton. 45. Recently divorced. Hates the color green. Can't touch textured plastic. Go."
I stared at her and she gestured toward the rest of the store, snapping me into action.
Milton. Milton. Milton.
Time went by in a blur as I ran around the store, battling other shoppers and staring longingly at items that were just outside my price range. Finally, I had whittled my list down to the final name. I picked up a potpourri simmer pot set with apple cinnamon oil.
"She doesn't like anything that smells like baked goods. She says it's deceptive."
I put the pot back and snatched a blue scarf and mittens set off of a display to hold them out to Cristina.
"She's allergic to wool! How can you not remember that?"
"Because she's not real!"
I put the scarf back and rushed over to a display of costume jewelry.
"Distractamabob! Distractamabob!"
I dodged the display and continued to scavenge the store. The cart Cristina was pushing was full and I was carrying the last few gifts I had picked out in my arms. My eyes darted from side to side looking for an empty cart. I spied one in front of me and rushed toward it, but a woman grabbed it before I could get to it, claiming it with the pair of socks that she was holding and glaring at me ferociously. A moment later I saw what looked like a TV box waddling toward me. It reached the side of the cart and the box toppled in, revealing a flustered-looking man. I continued on, finding another abandoned cart that was promptly shoved into my belly by a shopper wearing a candy cane-covered vest and matching head bobbles.
"That seemed unnecessary," I muttered to Cristina.
"Time's a-ticking," Cristina said. "You need to hurry."
"A-ticking?" I asked.
"Yes. There are very few times in the language when the 'a' is appropriate. When a storm's a-brewing. When a train's a-coming. When time's a-ticking."
"I'm trying."
"Alright, well, I have a couple more things to grab, so I'm going to go get those. You figure out this last gift and meet me up near the cash registers. Last one on the left."
I nodded and watched her disappear into the fray, using her cart to create a path in front of her. I paused and looked around me, taking in everything that was happening. I could hear people shouting over each other, fighting about which one grabbed an item first or whether they deserved to have a shopping cart over someone else. I heard people muttering about not being able to find the items that they wanted, and a few comparing different items to see which one they should choose because they had reached the end of their budget. I saw several people fall victim to the Distractamabob gauntlet that lined the path to the electronics and toy departments and my mind immediately went to whether they would even remember picking those items up when they got home.
Finally, I grabbed the last gift and made my way up toward the front of the store, juggling everything I was holding and trying not to run into anyone as I went. I found Cristina and we got in a line that I had mistaken for people trying to get to the back of the store.
"How'd you do?" she asked.
"I think I did OK. You?"
She looked down at the cart, peering around the piles as if comparing what was there with the list that she had in her head.
"Pretty well, I think. I found the gift wrapping station."
I smiled at her.
"You did?"
"It was a little hidden, but it's there. That's a nice touch."
I felt warmth spread through my chest. I was starting to say something when I felt something hard hit me in the back. I stumbled forward, wrapping my arms around Cristina's waist to catch myself. She fell back against a cart that mercifully remained in place, causing our bodies to press together. Her hands flattened on my chest and her hips nestled against me. Our eyes met, our breath seeming to still as everything seemed to go quiet around us for a moment.
"Go ahead," a voice snapped at us from behind me and I looked back.
The woman behind me was holding the handle of her cart like she was threatening to hit me again, but she lifted one hand to gesture angrily ahead of us. I looked forward seeing that the line had moved a bit. Cristina and I stepped away from each other and I drew in a breath as we followed the others.
Finally, it was our turn and I started loading all of my selections onto the counter. The cashier swept each across the sensor and dropped them into the bags at the end of the station. They were piling up and I realized that she expected me to take them, so I went to work snatching them out of place and settling them back into the cart as she filled them. Cristina made space by moving her purchases behind a divider bar and soon the cashier swept the final item. I grinned proudly, then she hit the total button and I felt my stomach fall.
"Three hundred and four dollars and seventy-five cents," she said.
I drew in a breath.
"What?"
She turned the screen toward me and I saw the bright red numbers of judgement.
"Three hundred and four dollars and seventy-five cents."
The bills that I had tucked into my pocket loomed large and I felt my cheeks burning. The people behind me were starting to mumble and I heard a few choice words that did not have a place in any Christmas song. I stumbled over my words, not knowing what to say. My eyes scanned over the items in the bags, trying to find something that I could swap out. It was a sickening feeling, something I had never experienced and didn't expect to happen.
"Don't worry," Cristina said from behind me. "I'll cover you."
She reached in her pocket and withdrew a five-dollar bill. I sighed with relief as I accepted it and added it to the rest of the money I had brought with me. I handed it over to the cashier, took the change and receipt, and got the hell out of the way.