The most horrible time of the year

Jessica Lewis

Whoever decided that we should pick one morning a year to hold crazy sales and go absolutely insane over the possibility of getting items on sale should be beaten with a club.

I don’t know why I did it. Maybe I went temporarily insane, or maybe I wanted to punish myself for that delicious slice of pumpkin  cheese cake I allowed myself the day before, but for whatever reason, I decided to get up at 4 a.m. and drive to town for the Black Friday sales.

I arrived about five minutes after the store was supposed to open, but already, there was not a parking spot in sight. After several minutes of searching and a few near accidents caused by people too excited about shopping to care about courtesy or the rules of driving, I found a spot on the far, far, far side of the lot.

Then the real fun began. I darted into the store and saw more people than there could possibly be in all of Chenango County, all in the same place at the same time, and all of them were pushing carts around the store without a care for who was in there way or how many people they ran over in that mad dash for toys, electronics and sale items.

I was there for a simple purpose, supplies for The Evening Sun’s float for the annual parade. I had to make my way through the hoards of people to get to the holiday decorations. I’ve pushed my way through angry crowds at rock concerts with more ease, probably because they didn’t have shopping cars. It took forever, but finally I arrived, only to find that the decorations weren’t really part of the giant sale. It took another hour to make my way to the front of the store and check out.  Next year, I think I’ll just stay in bed.