Your Mom Got Arrested for What?
By shannonr on August 23, 2009
I waited until the absolute worst possible day to take the kids to the mall for back to school shopping: the Saturday before every child attending public school in Texas starts. Yeah, brilliant, I know.
I didn’t even try to park, headed straight for the valet. I would have paid $50 to not hitchhike from the edge of the mall parking lot. It was easily 100 degrees, and I had, after all, taken the time to put on makeup, just in case I ran into any of my clients out shopping. The last thing I needed was my makeup melting off in the 30 seconds between my car and the mall entrance.
I sent the kids on their way shopping, instructions to not spend one cent over their $100 each budget or everything would be returned, and to call me in an hour.
Since I had time to pass, I decided to walk around the mall.
Walk? Anywhere? Who was I kidding with more people shopping than attending a rock concert. Not a chance.
What is it with people at the mall who walk in groups five across and refuse to let you pass? And then, they STOP, unexpectedly, and you end up nearly doing the Butt Boogie with a stranger. I totally turned into a mall tailgater. MOVE OVER PEOPLE, PLEASE, THIS IS NOT A SUNDAY STROLL!
Thirty minutes later, I heard from the kids. One of the models at Hollister wouldn’t let them use my credit card because Tyler’s ID didn’t match. Guess he doesn’t look Posh enough to be a Shannon R.
I headed off to pay so we could GET OUT THERE before I ended up arrested by the mall police for assaulting some slow walker.
I met Jordan, headed into Hollister, and ran smack into a line of parents waiting to pay. When I say line, I mean LINE, people. This line tangled all the way through that dark, loud store and stopped just short of the entrance to the mall.
For forty minutes we stood there in that cave of a store, unable to hear anything due the blaring music, continuously bumped by their modeliscious workers working. I counted to ten. Took deep breaths. Did I mention I hate, really hate, crowds?
The whole time, I was thinking, ‘this is not concert tickets to see Cold Play. This is 3 shirts and a pair of shorts. And Cold Play tickets would be cheaper. And if one more teeny bopper bumps into me, there’s gonna be a throw down.’
Jordan kept glancing at me like he was saying a silent prayer: ‘please God, get us up there before she really embarrasses me and tackles another parent or a Hollister employee.’
We finally paid, and headed out of the store back into the mall. I couldn’t see anything except stars, and not the Brad Pitt kind, unfortunately. The stars you see when you walk out of a long movie, straight into the bright sun, having just plunked down
All I could think of was, ‘next year, we’re so shopping online, come August. And thank goodness Nana’s a lawyer. Just in case.’
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