Making It Up As I Go Along #454

Far Off Worlds
Wal-Mart has become a foreign world to me. It’s Mars. A frightening place.

I go to Wal-Mart about once every two years. This week was one of those times and I’m out of place, trying to blend with the aliens while searching for my way… I don’t want to look too out of place for fear of what these ‘people’ may do.

First off, this place is so enormous that they have two large entrances. One brings you to the grocery side, the other to the clothes and household stuff.

You know you’ve got problems when a box store is so large they need separate mega entrances at either end. I half expect a bus system inside to bring the elderly from groceries to patio furniture… a journey that would probably take ten minutes on foot.

And even though the in-store bus system is not yet in place, the entrance greeter remains.

I’ve never felt comfortable with the greeter. I don’t need to be welcomed into your store, and if you aren’t there to welcome, you can only be there as a shoplifting deterrent. They may say “hello, welcome.” But they really mean “watch yourself, I’ve got my eye on you.”

I’m in luck, the west entrance greeter is busy making small talk with a mother and child and I slip in behind them.

My luck doesn’t last long though. The store is football stadium size. Finding the photography department will be no different than searching out that haystack needle. I turn to the right and begin my journey.

Wal-Mart is full of wanderers. In some cases, it’s due to energy conservation. If young and old alike are needing to get from one end of the place to the other, a slow and steady shuffling of the feet is the best way of getting them there without exhaustion setting in. In fact, I would think such a place should put lawn furniture and camping supplies dead centre. That way there’ll at least be a rest station at the halfway point from the books department to the frozen food isle. And, for those who began their journey too close to closing time, the tents can act as shelter for the night.

Other wanderers just appear to be mentally broken. Trudging through the store’s isles in zombified states… my mission is slowed by their hellish torment… I’m guessing they’ve been here for days… lost… and tired… and frightened.

By the time I reach the drug store, I’m sure I’m in the wrong area for photography. I turn and peer off into the distance, trying to read far off banners advertising the department that has colonized that distant land.

And there, way off on the horizon, I see “Photo Lab”. Perhaps it says “Pharmacy”… the words are too far away… but I begin my journey, hoping for salvation.

I pass the land of bras and panties… a lone man careful not to step off the pathway… not wanting to be sucked in to the Wal-Mart lingerie department (which is a far cry from Victoria’s Secrets or La Senza in terms of male intrigue). I scoot through toasters and mixers. I navigate picture frames and vases. And I reach the photo counter. It is indeed the photo lab! My eyes had not deceived me.

“Do you still do passport photos?” I ask.

“We never have.” The lady behind the counter deadpans. “You want the Photo Centre, over there.”

She points a finger towards the northeast. Off into the distance as one would point from the shores of Newfoundland telling you “Ireland lays over there.”

I begin a new journey… slower… and nearing defeat.

I revisit picture frames and vases… dumfounded that one box store could have two separate photo-related departments. I skim the border of toasters and mixers but veer to the east a little earlier than I need to… avoiding the lingerie department… substituting it with end tables, porch benches and magazine racks.

I break out at the candy section, spotting a sign for the Photo Centre. It’s there, the first department to your left, if you entered through the grocery entrance. If only I had chosen more wisely before entering this land… I could have been in and out within seconds.

I pass a family caravan… each lugging a shopping cart. They remind me of desert caravans where camels lug the supplies. These carts are lifelines for the people, helping them through their journey.

And then I reach my destination. The Photo Centre. Where the walls are covered with soft, plush teddy bears and a machine churns what looks to be cotton candy, but I think is an inedible cotton substitute used for stuffing the walled bears.

“Passport photos?” I pant… exhausted from my travels.

“Sure,” states the girl without a care in the world… “Sit over there.”

Within minutes, my photo is taken, printed and trimmed. It took longer to park my car and enter this behemoth of a store than it did for me to have my picture taken with a developed copy in my hand.

Thankful, I burst from the store with newfound energy. I push past the greeter as he welcomes a couple that simply want to pick up some milk and bread. And I emerge to the real world… finally able to breathe the crisp air once again.

I’ve returned from Mars… I’m home.

WEDNESDAY…
--- Rough and long day at work. Just not geared for it.
--- Groceries and the bank after work… means it’s 7:30 by the time I get in the house. Blah.
--- Survivor and Republic of Doyle help make the evening better.

THURSDAY…
--- Better work day today and get my passport pics done after work… bit of French Toast for supper and up late for night shift.

FRIDAY/SATURDAY…
--- Work two nights. Mostly snoozing at home with some TV and the work when I’m not there. Friday is pretty interesting and busy while Saturday is fairly quiet.

SUNDAY…
--- Little sleep to start my four days off. Up after about three hours. Back to bed for an hour and a half at 1:00 this afternoon… and ball, a double header, after that. Good times on the field.

MONDAY…
--- Snow day. About 15 cm falls. Nice day to do nothing.
--- Trade deadline day in the NHL is so overdone by Canadian TV that it borders on ridiculous. Ten hours of coverage for very little action… leaves us with constant over analysis of stuff that’s barely newsworthy.

TUESDAY…
--- Quiet day, some laundry and such. Geoff comes in the evening and we get some burgers from the Works and watch hockey while chatting. Good times.