Our quarry was an artificial Christmas tree--7 ft, price $44.94-- and a set of icicle lights--white, price $6.99.

It was pretty obvious the place was packed when we drove up--we had to park in the Sam's Club lot next to an idling semi which we suspected was going to fall on the car at some point.

Inside, Dan was able to wrest a cart from its neighbors--it was mating season--to find we had the same cart we always get, the one with the broken wheel that squeaks and tries to run into stacks of glassware*.

Of course it was another National Get In Front of Linda and Move Slow Day. I don't know who decided to make this a regular national holiday, but some day I'm going to find him and there will be a reckoning.

Some customers had obviously been waiting inside the store for the sale to officially start and had already achieved their goals. One clever lady was riding the display model of the child-size pink bicycle ($28.95) to the cash registers. (I hope it was the display model; there wasn't time for her to have assembled it in the store.) Carts were stacked with TV sets and VCRs, Christmas trees and icicle lights.

We survived having huge stacks of tin boxes of cheap chocolate fall on us--a particularly vicious move by the broken cart, which went berserk while we were detouring around two large women debating the merits of one Christmas card design over another. They already had their VCR ($65.94) and could therefore fritter their time away and ignore the long line of glowering people behind them.

The Christmas tree aisle was impossible to miss, but it took some time to fight our way through the crowds. A poor clerk was scurrying about showing people the items they wanted, which were mostly under gigantic signs saying something like "This is the sale item, dummy."

I snagged him because the Christmas trees aisles only have a display model out and you have to find the actual sale models on pallets secreted about the store, none of which are anyways near the display item. What's near the display item is something that costs $25 more and is the wrong color.

The clerk was about half my size, but he was quick. I was, however, quicker--before he managed to run to another customer to show them the glass ornaments under said gigantic sale sign, I grabbed him and said, "where are the Christmas trees?"

"Which one?" he asked.

Now, it's 6:10 AM. Why would I be in a store at 6:10 AM the day after Thanksgiving to buy a Christmas tree if it wasn't on sale?

He finally understood my incoherent babbling (I do not speak English before 10AM,) and pointed out the pallet of sale trees. We hauled ours bodily into the inadequately sized cart and did a U-turn in the aisle because the area ahead of us was blocked by six people chattering in a foreign language about nativity scenes. (At least I think it was a foreign language. Maybe they weren't morning people either.)

This maneuver brought us square up against a gigantic display of icicle lights!!! Success in sight we snatched a box, stopping only to make sure they had white bulbs, not gold, and made our escape.

We got in line behind more people celebrating Move Slow in Front of Linda Day--the clerk was celebrating too--checked out and made it to the car before the idling semi fell over on us. It's a very nice tree, actually, though Dan says it's too tall, but that's only because he has to haul it up from the basement every December and back down again in January.

I only have one question now--what kind of sadist plans a big sale for 6AM the morning after Thanksgiving? Ye gods, twelve hours before these people were stuffing themselves with turkey and pumpkin pie and watching guys in helmets head-butting each other on TV. Between the food and the football their mental state has to be fragile. Then they are expected to get up at an idiot hour of the morning and buy stuff.

I understand there were actually riots in some cities, people storming the stockrooms in search of more VCRs they were sure were being kept from them. My theory is that somebody in corporate has all the surveillance tapes and is showing them to friends--"look at the fat lady snagging the clerk!", "Watch the pile of cheap chocolate landing on the tall guy with the mustache!" Such are the pleasures of the ruling class.

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* One friend of mine who lives in NYC commented upon reading this: "I see it's made its way to the Midwest." Return