It’s a random Friday morning. I wake up ready to work and the radio on my AirPort stops working. I reset the device, do everything I know to do, but there is no SSID, no radio signal whatsoever. What to do? String a cable across the room so that it can get ripped out of a computer when the crazed, six year old invariably streaks through the office having watched Power Rangers and looking to chop me into pieces? Not a chance. I’ll just run out to the closest Apple store and grab a quick replacement.
So I hop in the car and drive to the mall. What is going on with parking? I finally find a spot out in no-mans-land, but wait – an 80-something year old woman in a brand new red Civic swings in front of me, practically clipping my bumper to steal my spot hanging me a bird and yelling “here’s my Holiday cheer” in the process. Wow. Wait, did that middle fingernail really have a picture of Santa painted on it?!?! Suburbs…
There’s another spot a little further out, but wait – again my life is put in danger! This time by a car load of 40-something year old women with shorter in the back than in the front, some with a little spike action in the back but all with at minimum two colors in their hair and at least 5 shades between them – which is less shades than the stitches on their bejeweled jean pockets… After wondering whether my car would fit in the back of their Yukon, I think I’ll find another spot!
After a quick scan, much akin to a running back trying to figure out where that linebacker and free safety are, I see a carload of nuns and orphans, with hate and fear in their eyes, about to take a spot. I slam on the gas, flip right in front of them and gently rest my car between those beautiful golden lines. I hear a scream as their tires scream to a halt and see poor Tiny Tim’s face writhe as his crutch smacks him in the back of his head, knocking him out cold; but I am finally in a spot, after at least 15 minutes of searching and at least 2 near death incidents. As I sit, heart pounding, I wonder at how I was able to get caught up in the craziness. But more importantly, what is the craziness about?
I exit the car and start making my way towards the mall entrance. After traversing the distance of a marathon, with a group of nuns seemingly chasing behind (my time was 3 hours and 2 minutes, theirs 3 hours and 1 minute – but they were slowed up by Tiny Tim until they left him behind) I finally approach the door of the mall. Just then, the Salvation Army guy pounces from behind a column, ringing the Vorpal bell so loudly that I can see the sound waves approaching and feel the 1d6+5 hit points of damage they do inside my temples. I pull a spin move, stiff arm his bucket dropping a buck in there and while I have no idea how he’s made it this far, this fast I see Tiny Tim lunging at me from my periphery. Recalling all those Georgia games, I hurdle Tim in a manner that Knowshown Moreno would be proud of and fall into the door of the mall, feeling the warmth already thawing out my semi-frost bitten feet. I sigh.
But just then I see a shopping cart barreling down on me at a break-neck pace. I roll away just in time and see who I guess to be Large Marge from Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure wearing a bedazzled Green Bay Packers sweater and shrieking with laughter. Before I can contemplate what in tarnation is wrong with people the group of nuns flings the door open just behind me, with a bloody stump of an arm still clasping his bell waving over their heads. They lock their eyes on me and hurl the stump in my direction. I sprint into the mall, juking right, then left and then an old school swim move to get past the thin, pale, faux-hawk toting/director glasses wearing college kid who for some reason is foaming at the mouth and snarling at me. Once past, I look back and see him lock onto the nuns. I smile just as he gets beamed in the head with that bell arm. I can’t help but think, maybe the Cowboys should bring her in to replace Romo… (too soon, I know).
Like a northstar, I see the Apple logo over the heads of seemingly rioting hipsters. The skinny jeans apparently got so tight, they’ve cut off circulation to those Fluevog-laden feet. There isn’t a pair of uncracked Gucci glasses amongst them as these lumbersexuals (it is Movember ya’ll) battle it out for who gets to complain about the coffee at the Caribou in the middle of the mall. I get an idea! I pull the crossbow from my computer bag (you do take a crossbow everywhere, right?!?!), rip the knit cap from one of the hipsters, tie a piece of yarn to my bolt and fire it just right, so the yarn unravels as the bolt loops through all the gaged earholes tying them together and parting hipster beards like the red sea. At last, the Apple store is in sight.
I see a father with his 3 children sitting on the floor eating ice cream. They are sitting in an aura of protection in front of the Apple Store. There is a nice young lady at the door of the Apple Store. As I cross the threshold of the store I notice the number of people inside. The nuns, Large Marge, the ladies from the Yukon, Tiny Tim (apparently he found a supercharged wheelchair and changed his name to Timmy 2000 – TIMMMAAAAAAHHHHHGGGG!!!!) and the poor one armed Salvation Army guy approach but slam into what is apparently a force field against crazy surrounding the Apple Store. Boob, relief!
I move to the back of the store, passing the Geico lizard, peaking from behind the genius bar (that would explain the angry cavemen in True Religions and a Favre jersey hovering outside the store). There, I see the AirPort that I am there for. But no, I have a question. Crap. It’s busy. A nice young lady (another nice young lady – after all the crazy it’s kinda’ hard to believe) approaches and asks if I need anything, seeing the furrow in my brow – or am i perma-furrowed?). Why yes, I respond. She knows more than someone her age should about 802.11ac but alas not the answer to my question, but wait here, I’ll be right back. Ya’ right?!?! Within a few seconds she appears again, with another nice young lady who actually does know the answer to my question. Well good grief, I guess I should get two of them then… She swipes my card, gives me a bag with my schwag in it and actually gives me the small business discount, apparently having remembered me from a previous ACN event. Wow.
I look back at the door with the forcefield, Large Marge (now armed with a curtain rod from Macy’s, Tiny Tim (now armed with a bolo made from Bang and Olufsen speakers and speaker-wire), the Nuns (wielding torches made from burning t-shirts from Spencer’s) and of course the now one armed Salvation Army guy wielding fugly fashion victim white sunglasses from Louis Vitton with tight, pegged $900 jeans and a monotone rasta hat that makes Bob Marley roll over in his grave. I know I will survive though, as Apple has called in Bruce Campbell to escort us all to our cars. Finally, I think to ask. What is wrong with people today? Ash looks down at me and asks “what is wrong with you people, going to the mall on Black Friday?!?!”
I didn’t know what I was getting into. I just needed an AirPort. On Black Friday I was able to walk into the Apple Store at Rosedale Center and in less than 15 minutes, walk out the door with what I needed. The only good experience in the whole mall – even on Black Friday! Kudos to you Apple and to the whole team at Rosedale. Wait, I forgot, I needed a new Apple TV. I should go back in…