Holiday Hell

December is in full swing and unless you live in a cave you’ve probably been to the mall. Whether you were forced by your girlfriend or wife or came to the yearly realization that at some point this holiday season you will have to go, for people with Y chromosomes it is a terrible experience. 

The Entrance

The entrance to a mall is like a staging area in a quarantined hospital. You must wash when you go in and wash when you leave, for safety purposes of course. Walking into the department stores at the mall you are blasted with the olfactory overload of thousands of perfumes at the same time. The sum of which smells like thousands of old ladies are circling you in their Rascals.

If this wasn’t enough they have spray tanned people standing around sticking smelly white pieces of paper in your face.

Leather-faced lady/well groomed, fit male: Want to smell Ralph Lauren Amber Rain today?

Me: NO. Stop sticking foreign smells in my face before I stick something in yours. And believe me it will be a smelly piece of white paper that you will never forget. 

  

For as much as I hate this entire experience it serves a purpose. Quarantine in a hospital prevents diseases from getting in or out of the little area. In the mall, the chemical wash that is the perfume department prevents you from experiencing some of the less desirable aspects mall, thus allowing you to spend more money.

For one there are children everywhere. We all know children smell. That is a fact, no need to say more. Secondly, old people. In general, they have less control over their bowels than Lindsay Lohan can resist temptation at a lesbian cocaine party. This is not a good smell, Lindsay Lohan or the old people. So by jamming your nostrils full of smell, you don’t experience these elements of the mall. Lastly, the aromatic fumes we find at the entrances also get us a bit high. Ever spend too much time in a department store? Those elves come to life after a while.  

  

Old People

At this point you made it out of the department store that you didn’t even need anything from.

Deep breath to try and clear the lungs and nostrils and it’s time to move on. One store. All I need to do is get to that one store, buy the crap, bee-line for the exit.

Mentally you’re prepared to get in and get out like a heist.

Smooth and seamless like in Ocean’s 11. You’re George Clooney. Ready? Go.  

Now as soon as you start to walk you hit a wall of old ladies. Roadblock.

God, they’re slow. Okay made my way around them, time to move.

More old ladies. Roadblock.

GOD damnit! Okay, scoot by that group of old ladies, let’s go people. Man I wish it was acceptable to push old people.

Bam! Old ladies? Exactly. This is because for some reason old people find the mall to be an acceptable place to exercise. They just walk around the mall holding up every last man who wants to shop with precision. 

Old people should exercise in places where no one can see them. Because honestly, I'm not sure whether or not that man is shitting his pants.

At this point you have to resign to the fact that these ladies are ruining your chance at a heist-like shopping experience.

Jailbait

The place smells. The old people are holding you up. But finally you make it to the store you wanted to find. You buy your girl that new set of pots and pans you’ve been thinking about to remind her that ordering Chinese doesn’t constitute cooking and you’re ready to go.  But alas, on your way from the register to the door you notice a girl walking in front of you.

Damn! That girl is cute. She’s got a NICE ass!

You think about going up to her and saying hello. You did just buy pots and pans for your girl so you’re thinking it could head south after Christmas. As you debate in your head you notice her walking towards a group of high school girls.

No,don’t go there. Nooo!

Yes. After all those terrible thoughts about old people God is making sure you realize you are a dreadful person.  As she joins her friends she turns around to reveal her braces in all their glory. For most of us, the guilt, shame, and anger fill your body. 

Why is she dressed like that? Seriously, where is her father?

Why can’t I be 16 again? I don’t remember my friends looking like whores in high school. Well, except Easy Erin, Loose Lucy and Spread-Eagle Sam. BUT IT WAS DIFFERENT.

My daughter is going to be a fucking nun. A FUCKING NUN!

Time to go

You’re rattled. Your head is spinning from inhaling fumes. The hoard of old people is starting to worry you because Mrs. Field’s doesn’t have a senior discount and the grumblings of riot are written on the wall. At the same time you’re trying to convince yourself you’re not a pedophile. The solution is to run. Run as fast as you can until you breathe the fresh air of the parking lot. And do not come back to the mall. At least until next year.