Mall Murmur

I was at the mall today in my hometown. It's been a long while since the place saw my shadow. I was there to buy a pair of shoes, but I had some time to kill, so I walked down to the Timothy's coffee island.

Malls change in the blink of an eye, but the Burlington Mall more or less looks the same as it did when I was a kid. For a laugh, I started wandering through my brain and wondering how many Mall Memories I could come up with. I was surprised: quite a few. In fact, if it weren't for the snotty brats, pushy moms, down-and-out-security guards, or bad music over the PA, the mall would be a nice place to visit from time to time.

Coles bookstore brought up some memories. It used to be on the south side of the building, but some time ago they moved it directly across the hall. Why, I don't know. Anyway, I remember when my dad took me there to buy Stephen King's It. I'd been waiting for it to come out on paperback. When we got to the store, it was in the front window, stacked high. I remember doing a dumb kid-dance, as if I'd just scored a goal. Then we bought the book (or rather, my dad did; I didn't have a job then), and I read the thing in the space of a couple of days. I remember loving that book. I remember hating Stephen King's next one, and never reading another Stephen King novel until last year, Cell. I thought it was just okay.

The food court has moved. It's now beside a Sportchek, a store that didn't exist when I was growing up. But the new food court still serves the same crap. It's home to high school students. Catholic girls in kilts, the hemlines just below their crotches. That's the way it was when I was in school, too. Today, I'm single and I have no kids, but I still can't see how parents let their daughters walk around like broads in a fetish porno.

I got my coffee at Timothy's and I watched the food court and I remembered the time I was sitting alone at a table near the Mrs. Vanelli's pizza. It's gone now, but it was a hit with the kids back in the day. I was alone at a table there one day, and I had that creepy 'sitting alone' feeling that you get when you're a teenager. Around me, other kids were hanging out and chatting, using their text books for elbow props and talking about people behind their backs, so forth. The kids in the mall today were probably still talking about people behind their backs, but they were all doing it on cell phones. We didn't have those when I was in high school. Anyway, during my alone-day, I remember that a guy named Pat with long hair discarded his empty tray on my table and said, "Have a nice lunch." Then he sat with his hot girlfriend (I'm pretty sure her name was Michelle), and he laughed at my aloneness. Michelle frowned sympathetically because she'd hung out with me in grammar school, but that was a hundred years ago and this was high school, so what can you do?

I thought Pat was an asshole for that. I don't think he remembered the jibe, because six years later he was sitting in my dorm room at university, having a smoke and laughing it up with me. We'd "re-met" in a stats class, and we got to talking, and he came by my dorm from time to time to have a smoke and cool his heels. He lived off campus. I was the president of the residence and I had a nice pad all to myself, so there were always people hanging around. I never told Pat that I thought he was an asshole in high school, because that was a hundred years ago and this was university, so what can you do?

By the food court, there used to be an It Store, a place that sold knick knacks and colorful shoelaces and assorted crap. Girls liked it a lot. Beside that there used to be an iron-on t-shirt store. You could get your name printed on the back of your shirt in case you forgot who you were. I never bothered because my name is "Sean" and people just pronounced it "seen" until I corrected them.

There was a Bi-Way at the mall, too, right near the Timothy's where I was now standing. I stole a couple of dinky cars from Bi-Way on a dare and the grammar school principal found out. Turns out the school had a regular crime ring going, and somebody ratted on us. The rat's name was Kevin and he was pissed that nobody dared him to steal anything, so he ruined the whole show by dropping a dime at the principal's office. My dad was damn mad about that, and I had to return the stolen property. I cried like a sissy. The store manager took pity on me and let me off with a warning. I heard later that I was lucky: after the tenth kid turned in his stolen dinky car, the store manager freaked out and threatened to call the cops.

The Zellers is still there. I guess it always will be. Everything there is on sale all the time, and the old ladies in the apartments across the road really dig it. I remember I had a friend named Phil and his mom worked in the restaurant beside Zellers. I thought it was a crap job, being a waitress at Zellers. It didn't occur to me that they were separate establishments. I thought, who the hell eats at Zellers?

Me and that same Phil used to troll for chicks at the mall. We were 11 and we sucked at it. We never got the guts to talk to a girl. But we'd stalk them for a while and whisper about them over pizza and Coke. Today, we'd get arrested, suspended from school, and put through therapy or something. Back then, the girls just stuck out their tongues, we'd get embarrassed, and go home.

The mall entrances are all in the same spot. The old ladies used to walk through the doors with canes and walkers, but now they have all-terrain vehicles. One time, when I was about 12, I went to the mall early to buy my mom a Christmas present. I was too young to think it strange that she gave me her own money so I could buy her a present, but whatever. I used to buy her lots of spoons and pots and over mitts, because she said I should buy her something useful. To this day, she has more utensils than Buckingham Palace.

So one early morning before Christmas, I opened the mall door and looked around. It was dark inside. I called out "Hello," but got no response. I turned around, and there was a cop. He had a mustache. He asked me what I was doing, and I told him I was Christmas shopping. He told me to come outside. I did. He told me to stand where I was, and he got on his radio. I walked over to sit on a post. The cop yelled, "Stay right where you are." He snarled it. It turns out that someone had broken into the mall, and I had simply opened the unlocked door they'd left behind. The cop made me sit on the post for the better part of a half-hour until my story checked out. Then he wrote down my name and address, and he finally cut me loose. I haven't liked cops since.

I used to like those King's Quest video games when I was a kid. There was a computer store at the mall that sold them. Me and a couple of friends would stay up late at night and play them until our eyes got sore. We were maybe 12 years old. The King's Quest games were tough, and you had to use your wits and figure things out. When you got stumped, it felt like the end of the world. There was no internet to turn to. Sierra, the company that made the games, used to print these "hint books" that would help you out, but they cost fifteen bucks. So me and my friends would go to the mall and one of us would rip the book open while another guy stood look-out for the store manager. We finished all the games. Now that I think about it, the internet has completely destroyed a software company's method of making money by stumping people and selling them hint books.

When I was a kid, I wanted a dog. My mom didn't. I used to pray and pray for a dog. No go. So whenever I was in the mall I would go to the bookstore and read the dog books. How to train dogs, what to feed them, what kinds of dogs make good dogs, on and on. Back then, you weren't allowed to lounge around the book store, enjoy a chai tea latte, and read things without buying them, so I had to read the books on the sly before the manager booted me out. I never did get a dog, but I knew a hell of a lot about them. I didn't grow up to be a vet, and strangely enough, I don't want a dog anymore. I still like them, though.

The second floor of the mall isn't there anymore. I was looking around today and saw that the escalator is gone. I don't know what's on the second floor these days, but you're not allowed up there. When I was a kid, there was a hobby store on the second floor that sold the Dungeons and Dragons games. We used to go there and talk for hours about which game we would buy, because they were ten dollars each and it was a major spending decision. I remember we bought one game that revolved around pirates, and it was crap. Another time we bought one about gold dragons, and it was pretty good.

I worked at the gas station near the mall when I was in high school. It was an okay job for a teenager. For lunch or dinner, we'd get a half-hour break and wander across to the mall food court. I remember one time I went for a slice of Mrs. Vanelli's pizza. There was a guy sitting in the food court. I think his name was Gerald. He was sitting with Sharon, a girl I'd had a crush on for a hell of a long time. He asked me what I was up to and said, "Just getting some supper?" It had been a while since I'd heard anyone say "supper" instead of "dinner," and I have used "supper" quite a bit since that day. I like the easy going sound of it compared to "dinner." As for Sharon, I haven't seen her in at least 16 years, but I still think she was a knock out.

Another time after work, I went Christmas shopping. I'd taken a plastic bag from home in anticipation of all the things I would buy. So I went Christmas shopping and I put the stuff in this big plastic bag. I went walking through the mall towards the exits and I ran into a girl from high school. We shot the breeze for a minute and then she looked at the bag and asked, "Who's the lingerie for?" I turned red as a beet. The bag was white, but in swanky pink script it had the name of some lingerie shop on it.

There's a lot of stuff I remember from the mall. I could probably go on and on, if I put my mind to it. I bet you could, too.