Last Friday, Black Friday, I took my kids to Tysons Corner Mall. You ask, “Why would any sane male of near average intelligence go to Tysons Corner Mall on Black Friday?” Because I love my kids. My twin fourteen year olds wanted to see the new Harry Potter movie, and Tysons Corner has the closest IMAX screen. For those of you in the Northern Virginia Area, yes, I am aware that the Udvar-Hazy annex of the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum has a huge IMAX screen at Dulles airport. However, you can't buy a ten dollar keg of Diet Coke there. Food and drinks are prohibited. So I drove the kids to Tysons Corner Mall. The marketing theme for the mall is, “Tysons Corner Mall – You can't park here.” For those of you outside the Northern Virginia area, Tysons Corner Mall is located an easy two minute drive from hell.
When we were about ten minutes from the mall, I warned the kids. “In ten minutes, you are about to hear a string of four letter words.” They asked why.
“Because it is going to take an hour to find a parking space there. You know how famous I am for my patience driving.”
We turned off route 7 on to International Drive and then right into the parking garage complex. We waited about five minutes to get through the three way stop and then proceeded into the first garage on the left. I could see about a dozen cars circling aimlessly through the garage seeking open parking spaces. Of course, being male, I have a theory, which I was about to test, regarding the parking habits of the average female Christmas shopper.
In a parking garage, women tend to drive up through the garage to higher levels not down to lower levels. Instead of following the crowd, I headed for the down ramp to the lower level of the garage. My theory worked as perfectly as the big bang theory works explaining the origin of the universe. There was only one car in front of me. It was a minivan being driven by an Asian woman.
In my glee and competitive zeal, I shouted,” Tora! Tora! Tora! We beat you at Pearl Harbor. I'll beat you to a parking space down here.”
Shannon said, “Technically,we lost at Pearl Harbor.” Kids these days use the word technically a lot. It means, “Dad, you're full of shit.” But, they aren't allowed to use the word, shit. The disadvantage of having bright kids is that they let facts get in the way. As we drove down the ramp, I asked the kids to watch for open parking spaces. Yeah, right, two fourteen year olds are actually going to pay attention to the matter at hand. No way. I could only hope the parking garage would block cell phone reception, and that texting wouldn't work.
Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I spotted a car driving away two rows to the right, but I wasn't certain. That meant there might be an open space there. Julia shouted from the back seat that a space was available two rows to the right. Who knew a teenager might actually pay attention. I think Harry Potter in IMAX was a strong motivator. I hoped the driver of the minivan wouldn't spot the space before I did. When she made a left at the bottom of the ramp I called out, “Pearl Harbor all over again, bitch!” I revved up our Kia Sorrento to mach one and squealed the tires going right at the bottom of the ramp. I made a perfect landing into the open space that was in the middle of the row that was furthest from the mall opening. In hind sight, it made perfect sense for the minivan to turn left at the bottom of the ramp. She was turning towards the mall entrance. Since I am the expert on female behavior that my ex-wife says I am not, I should have anticipated that behavior.
We walked into the mall on the second level of terrace A. I had purchased our movie tickets on line before we left on my I-phone. Technology baby! Who says old people aren't tech savvy? We still had about two hours before we could be seated for the movie. We decided to not take a chance on long lines at the box office and started walking to the cinema to pickup our tickets. Being the math genius that I am, I had purchased four tickets for the three of us. Who knows how I came up with four? I probably learned to count the same day I learned World War II history. Kindergarten was tough.
We picked up the four movie tickets at the box office. That took us about five minutes. We still had a long time to kill in a mall filled with thousands of non-English speaking foreigners. I wasn't aware of this, but apparently the American dream is to work hard, save, and shop at Tysons Corner Mall. We had a lot of wandering ahead of us. After a few minutes, we reached a down escalator and rode to the lower level. There we saw a short line of parents and children waiting to see Santa Claus.
Think about this the next time you take your five year old daughter to see Santa Claus. Can you think of any better pedophile disguise than a Santa Claus costume? What type of background check do these people receive? I can't imagine it is quite as extensive as getting a top secret CIA clearance. Shouldn't it be, however? Shouldn't they at least have experience as Wal-Mart greeters? This is just food for thought. My youngest children are fourteen. So putting a young child in a potential pervert's lap seems to be more your problem than mine.
Santa Claus was at one end of the mall. We turned around and headed back to the other end of the mall getting as far away from that pervert as possible. At the far end was a Barnes and Noble bookstore. We are a family of geeks and dweebs. We spend a lot of time in bookstores. If I have an hour or so of time to kill, I am perfectly happy killing it in a bookstore. Actually that is my second choice. Any place with beer is my first choice, but my kids were with me. So we slogged our way past hundreds of future US citizens on the way to the bookstore.
As we approached the bookstore, I noticed a line of mostly women in front of a store across the way from the bookstore. I looked into the store, and it didn't look that busy inside. I was curious. Hey, it's just the way I am. I looked up and saw the store's name – Urban Outfitters. At that point, I understood why they were controlling access to a store that wasn't very busy. I also understood why about ninety percent of the people in line were female.
The only possible explanation was that the women (mostly) were there to see Keith Urban. They were there to outfit him like a giant Ken doll. They could take turns dressing and undressing him. The ninety percent female ratio also made perfect sense. About ten percent of our population are gay males. Keith Urban apparently has an open mind about such things.
Here is where I have a problem, however. Isn't it discrimination to have a store when you can dress and undress a man, but not to have a similar store where men can dress and undress a famous woman? I am volunteering to open a store called “Aniston Outfitters.” I have lots of great ideas for fashion accessories for Jen. Even better, I have a relationship with her. It's called a restraining order.
In my next post, I will delve into the marketing theory behind why Urban Outfitters treats its customers this way. Of course, I think they are as full of shit as I am about Pearl Harbor.
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