I love Christmas shopping, or more so watching Christmas shopping.The bench in the mall is my balcony seat, the stores my stages, and the people my actors. The middle-aged man uncomfortably walking around in Victoria Secret who bashfully denies assistance just to ask for help a few minutes later and the woman in heels with blonde highlights and Coach purse clueless as to what anything that isn’t a hammer is inside the hardware shop drive amusement into my holiday.
Christmas is a holiday of displacement. All of the shoppers play musical chairs and find themselves in an unknown environment. The ones they cherish have them standing in a situation much like walking into the wrong bathroom and the only consolation is knowing that they’re also helplessly confused by the unfamiliarity.
The pressures on. It’s a scavenger hunt to find the best gift, or at least one they don’t return. There’s always that one gift that ends up hidden from the world or sent back to the store, and no one wants to be the one to give that gift, so for the holiday season men roam boutiques and women scavenge through Auto shops, hopelessly lost, but equally humorous.