Sunday, September 19, 2004
Gadzooks!
I really hate the mall. You'd think a single fella like myself would like to be at a place where so many hott chicks congregate, but there you have it.
Sometimes, though, the stuff I need is at the mall and I have to actually go inside and get it. But before I talk about that, let me type some stuff.
I've worn Vans brand shoes since I was in junior high, back in my BMX-bandit days. Old school canvas, not that new bulky junk that makes your feet look huge. They make horrible running shoes, because they have almost no support at all for your feet. In junior high school on certain days, we had to run laps around the track, and you could always hear me and my fellow biker friend Sean coming 'round the track, because both sets of feet were slapping loudly against the track with each step.
It used to be that in Omaha, the only place to buy Vans was at this little bike shop called Earl's, which was actually south of town in Belleview out in the middle of nowhere in a warehouse with a tiny sign on the door, and it was about a 45 minute drive. This is also where I got all my super cool bmx shirts that the ladies loved (I assume). I kind of enjoyed that my tastes were so eclectic that I had to go through this much effort to find an acceptable pair of shoes.
So Vans enjoyed a re-surge of popularity in the late 90's, so I was able to find the shoes that I wanted at the mall and didn't have to make the trip to the bike shop south of Omaha, which is good since I live in Arkansas.
The downside is that to get the Vans, I had to go into the most mallish of mall stores, Gadzooks, where rebellion is always 20% off list price. It's almost the same store as Hot Topic, another place where teenagers who don't know about street cred buy black t-shirts and studded belts.
I've worn size 11 Vans for a long time, I don't need to try them on, I know they'll fit. So I found the plain old-skool black canvas low-tops that I like, and asked the sales-girl working there if she had that in a size 11. She went to the back and got them, I told her I didn't need to try them on, and she smiled and handed me the box. No hassles so far.
So I take the box up to the cash register where there was a guy behind the counter (calling him an employee might be a stretch). I set the box on the counter right in front of the guy, and the conversation went like this.
Guy Behind The Counter: "Did she get these for you?"
Me: "Yes."
[awkward silence as I stare at him staring at the shoebox]
GBTC: "Umm... Do you want to try these on?"
Me: "No."
GBTC: [Looks at me trying to comprehend why I'm there]
[more awkward silence]
Girl That Got Me The Shoes: [leans over to GBTC and whispers in his ear] "I think he might want to buy these shoes here."
GBTC: "Oh..."
And as he was ringing up my shoes, it still didn't appear that he had fully grasped what the situation was. I bet when he flips through the channels on his TV at home, he thinks every show is Unsolved Mysteries.
And that's how come I love the mall.
Sometimes, though, the stuff I need is at the mall and I have to actually go inside and get it. But before I talk about that, let me type some stuff.
I've worn Vans brand shoes since I was in junior high, back in my BMX-bandit days. Old school canvas, not that new bulky junk that makes your feet look huge. They make horrible running shoes, because they have almost no support at all for your feet. In junior high school on certain days, we had to run laps around the track, and you could always hear me and my fellow biker friend Sean coming 'round the track, because both sets of feet were slapping loudly against the track with each step.
It used to be that in Omaha, the only place to buy Vans was at this little bike shop called Earl's, which was actually south of town in Belleview out in the middle of nowhere in a warehouse with a tiny sign on the door, and it was about a 45 minute drive. This is also where I got all my super cool bmx shirts that the ladies loved (I assume). I kind of enjoyed that my tastes were so eclectic that I had to go through this much effort to find an acceptable pair of shoes.
So Vans enjoyed a re-surge of popularity in the late 90's, so I was able to find the shoes that I wanted at the mall and didn't have to make the trip to the bike shop south of Omaha, which is good since I live in Arkansas.
The downside is that to get the Vans, I had to go into the most mallish of mall stores, Gadzooks, where rebellion is always 20% off list price. It's almost the same store as Hot Topic, another place where teenagers who don't know about street cred buy black t-shirts and studded belts.
I've worn size 11 Vans for a long time, I don't need to try them on, I know they'll fit. So I found the plain old-skool black canvas low-tops that I like, and asked the sales-girl working there if she had that in a size 11. She went to the back and got them, I told her I didn't need to try them on, and she smiled and handed me the box. No hassles so far.
So I take the box up to the cash register where there was a guy behind the counter (calling him an employee might be a stretch). I set the box on the counter right in front of the guy, and the conversation went like this.
Guy Behind The Counter: "Did she get these for you?"
Me: "Yes."
[awkward silence as I stare at him staring at the shoebox]
GBTC: "Umm... Do you want to try these on?"
Me: "No."
GBTC: [Looks at me trying to comprehend why I'm there]
[more awkward silence]
Girl That Got Me The Shoes: [leans over to GBTC and whispers in his ear] "I think he might want to buy these shoes here."
GBTC: "Oh..."
And as he was ringing up my shoes, it still didn't appear that he had fully grasped what the situation was. I bet when he flips through the channels on his TV at home, he thinks every show is Unsolved Mysteries.
And that's how come I love the mall.
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