I hate shopping. I especially hate shopping malls. They seem to represent so much of what's wrong with America to me. I have always believed that all a person really needs should be able to fit in their backpack.

I could walk through a mall with 1000$ in my pocket and leave without buying a thing. That new shiny stuff will soon be unwanted junk.

You know, they do 30 year loans on RV's now? Ever seen a 29 year old RV? Imagine still having a year left to pay on it. Blue tarp on the roof, blown motor, toilet and fridge that haven't worked for 25 years, but just think of all that money you'll save on hotels......ok, I'm getting sidetracked here.

The day before Christmas Eve one year, I found myself at a shopping mall. Not that I wanted to be there, but I had already forgotten my girl's birthday that year. It was suggested to me that forgetting Christmas would be unforgivable. I did think of just breaking up with her, but I was starting to get attached. If I knew then what I know now.....

I expected a crowd, but not like this. The lot was full, and traffic jammed with people trying to find a spot to park. I rode the bus there.....

As I neared the main entrance of some big department store, for some reason, I assumed the door opens inward. I tried pushing it open as I moved forward, and kind of jammed my elbow and fell like a dumb ass on the icy sidewalk. I get myself up and see the word PULL on the large, flat square metal handle. (It DOES look more like something you'd push than pull.) As I get myself back up again, I'm smiling and starting to chuckle, when immediately I get pushed out of the way by some guy in a suit, holding a briefcase. This fucking guy was running full speed ahead right into the glass door, and did a magnificent prat fall. Just like a bird flying into a window.

He scrambled up real quick, and this time, PULLED the door open, not bothering to hold it for me. Yuppie prick.

I walk in, a second or so behind him, and am pushed out of the way AGAIN (I'm usually more aware of my surroundings,but had just finished up a 13 hour graveyard shift, and I'd only slept maybe 3 hours out of the last 48), this time by two big white cops with crew cuts, guns drawn. They yell, the guy in the suit turns around, still running, and points his own gun at the cops and fires a shot over his shoulder that goes way high, he's just trying to buy time.

The hive people in the crowded department store all let out a collective gasp, you could almost smell their fear and surprise, as if these old ladies and housewives and suburban Dads were of but one mind.

Everybody but me hits the deck, and the chase continues.

Me, on the other hand, I'm the type of guy who looks to see what the majority of people are up to, and then proceed to do the opposite. 99% of the people are always proven to be wrong in the long run.

So, I turn around and go back out the door I came in through, whistling and confident. I walk through the parking lot to a Mexican restaurant and order up a Coors lite with a shot of well whiskey. After a couple of these, I head back to the sacred temple of materialism.

There, right in front of the spot where I fell down earlier, is the yuppie prick in the suit and tie, handcuffed in the back of a squad car. I stand next to the car and examine this gentleman.

Upon closer inspection, he has the look and features of one who has spent much time in prison. Dark hair, dark eyes, about 40 or 45 I'd guess. He looked VERY angry and full of much hatred. We locked eyes, and he recognized me alright. I'm the guy who cost him that extra second that might have made his escape possible. It wouldn't have been hard for him to get lost in that crowd of holiday shoppers, had I not impeded his progress.

I laughed and said to him,

"The door said PULL, dummy."

I have no doubt that this man would probably kill me if he ever saw me again.

It wasn't hard to figure out that he'd just robbed one of the banks in the mall parking lot.

I eventually made my purchases, and was just about ready to get out of there, before curiosity struck and demanded I stay, there was still one thing I had to know.

I observed that fateful door for quite some time, and guess what? Nobody else had any problem pulling it open and walking in. Just me and this guy. For once the 1% got it wrong.

Impressions of Moby Dick: Herman Melville and Modern Man?s Transcendental Journey

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