How Black Was It?

With all the palaver about Black Friday, I find comfort in knowing that the madness has nothing to do with me, for I do not, will not, shop on Black Friday.

I doubt much I'll ever see that movie over there either, never heard of it. However, a man-made monster on the loose does sort of sound like Black Friday, no?

Give me some plain old Monday or Tuesday afternoon, about 2:00 or so, and I can glide like a misplaced Santa Ana wind on a cold Mid-Atlantic day through whatever Christmas shopping needs to be done.

Indeed. There have been years when all of mine was done under one roof. And I don't mean an array of stores under a mall's roof, I mean in one store with several floors, one roof, one credit card bill. If there was a stack of receipts for returns, they were all from the same retailer. Real easy, it's fine way to do business.

There was a year before we were married when my wife was somewhat dazzled when I took her along to the aforementioned Globe Store, where I wheeled through departments and floors in under ninety minutes, doing every bit of my Christmas shopping save for hers. The very next day I did come back, alone, and did literally finish the shopping by grabbing what I'd eyeballed for her the day previous. If I'd had the good sense, and been a bit devious, I could have sent her in search of some bogus item on another floor, that way I could have knocked off Christmas with one trip.

Happily, those days are not all gone, we still have Boscov's right here where we call home. I suppose other parts of our country have their department store here or there. Really big cities do have them. Small to medium cities may not.

About the only concession I make to the day itself is in wondering just why so many assume the persona of someone, some thing else the day after Thanksgiving.

We know them. We're related to some of them. Others of them are good friends, maybe neighbors, maybe even people we don't much care for, and maybe we don't because their shopping gene ran off its tracks long, long ago. One such derailed sort couldn't give a respectable answer when I years back asked as to why he busted his hump all day Thanksgiving entertaining a houseful of family and friends, then got out of bed long before the sun rose to stand salivating while waiting for a door to open at some store or another. He had no answer. Fact is, he seemed shocked anyone would ask.

If you like it, do it.

I don't, so I won't.

The term Black Firday allegedly is east coast in origin, dating back to the mid-60s or so. Consider this newspaper clipping:

JANUARY 1966 -- "Black Friday" is the name which the Philadelphia Police Department has given to the Friday following Thanksgiving Day. It is not a term of endearment to them. "Black Friday" officially opens the Christmas shopping season in center city, and it usually brings massive traffic jams and over-crowded sidewalks as the downtown stores are mobbed from opening to closing.

How true? Haven't a clue. A short twenty or fewer years ago, the epicenter of Black Friday madness was Sugerman's, where it is said certain cars were seen to drive in, never to drive out until somewhere in early Spring. It was also once observed that whatever happened to you on Black Friday, should you enter Sugerman's property, you had it coming, it was your own fault, that if you went anywhere near there on Black Friday, you deserved what you got.

So, what did I do this fine Black Friday?

Well, I'll tell you this, my first thought was to stay home. Giving it a second and third think, a tour seemed like a fair idea. No shopping, mind you, not even a consideration, mind you, just a look at what should be "prime" locations for Black Friday overload. An inspection tour, if you will.

A couple of disclaimers here; 1) There was little thought given where to start or where to end, 2) The tour commenced mid-afternoon, by which time most pre-sunrise Black Friday adherents were likely snug in their beds, or on their couches, or wish the hell they were.

Starting in downtown Wilkes-Barre, there were no crowds. The Square was empty, no traffic tied-up, backed up, no hustle, no bustle. All was calm, all was bright, since the city's tree and lights on Public Square looked pretty darned good.

Swinging on down South Main and then on up Blackman Street, I came at the arena hub and mall area from the south. No traffic jams, no long waits at lights. Strange and unexpected.

Highland Boulevard, Mundy Street, then actually into the mall's parking lot, no problems. Sure, there were plenty of people out and moving around, but not in the abundance I'd anticipated. Not a delay to be had. They just don't make Black Fridays like they used to. I took a second to grab a shot at the west end of the mall, where there was plenty of parking. Not exactly my finest moment in photography, unless storm drains and parking lot painting were a specialty. You do, though, get the point.

Does plenty of parking on Black Friday mean anything? I really don't know. Possibilities might include that shoppers are rolling the dice, figuring better deals lie ahead if they hold out, maybe next week, the week after. Could be that the dizziness of Christmas spending is perhaps beginning to slow a little after countless runaway years.

For me, it was an OK way to spend a couple hours. And I didn't come home with a headache.