(From the Archives of Yesteryear, when my daughter and I were younger and only one of us had a driver’s license.)
I have no idea how my daughter survived before the Town of Gilbert got SanTan Village mall, but I can tell you that I’m barely surviving now.
We live by Greenfield Road which, if you know your mall routes, is a straight shot to SanTan Village never mind the stretch of Greenfield that morphs into SanTan Village Parkway) which means we go there a lot. In fact, I think the only reason that Chaucer said “all roads lead to Rome” is because he didn’t know about SanTan Village mall.
My idea of going to the mall looks like this:
* Make a list of what you need to get.
* Google the mall map for the exact location of the store you need to get it from.
* Find the parking spot nearest the store.
* Get in. Get out. Get home.
This is the kind of shopping I like to do and in my mind I’m “making an extraction” which is a military term for an imperative tactical removal or rescue. The imperative part is that I need a new iPod case and you already know the tactical part. My job is to extract the item from a targeted site (not to be confused with Target) and rapidly remove it (the iPod case) to a secure location under friendly control (my house).
But for my daughter shopping is an event to be savored, not shortened. So, I’m treating her and two of her friends (the BFF and the back-up BFF, which would be a BUBFF) to a trip to the mall. My job on this occasion is to be Mall Chaperone, and I’m tailing three gigglers as they pop into PacSun, Hot Topic, Aeropostale and other you-name-it-shops with huge teen appeal. After about the fourth stop I decide to wait outside and read my book, which surprise, surprise I just happen to have handy.
These stores are teeming with the very young. In fact, I’ve never bumped into anyone there who’s in my peer group, possibly because of the pounding music and the odd spot-lighting which causes some merchandise to be blindingly displayed while the rest is in such dark shadows that you’d need a guide dog to find it.
Plus the sales associates, who are fractionally older than the shoppers, know I don’t belong and they approach me like they’re bridging the gap between species and say “are you finding everything all right?” And we both know I’m not. Even though some of the stuff would fit and I can afford it and I even like it, the truth is that I’m about 30 years too late.
Anyway, I get through a couple of chapters and the girls get their ration of mall-time and we leave on the same day we came. Peace out. As my daughter would say.
The Upstory 