Christmas 2007 - In search of a Nintendo Wii


It was a dark and stormy night, the most popular beginning lines to a story, but in this case it was actually true. My five-foot frame almost blew across the parking lot at Circuit City when the supposedly "small gust" caught the hood of my jacket. At that point, the color of my parachute turned light ash. I groped around in between cars like Helen Keller groping for a door handle, instead I found one of those little slits automobile engineers have brilliantly put just under the side windows, which couldn’t keep me grounded.


Humph! I thought, they do the same things with headlight assemblies so what do you expect, it's a conspiracy; they use three different types of screws to install them and make you use three different tools to remove them. I know, because I broke one once and tried to play stealth mechanic in the back of my driveway, so my husband wouldn't find out.


Slowly I inched my way towards the store. I could see the bright lights, it wasn't a mirage, I told myself. I'll get there. I started to rise off the ground like an old Life Buoy commercial, then an old Chevy attacked me from the rear and I ended up using leverage at the bumper.


I swear, this is the last time I wait until after Thanksgiving to go Christmas shopping, I lied to myself. My husband had a good excuse for not coming with me with the rope and mountain climbing equipment, he was home watching the Philadelphia Eagles finish up a record-breaking losing streak, just like me in this parking lot.


Finally, I arrived at the door of Circuit City. All the employees looked as if this was a wake; no one was in the store. All the other customers used common sense and stayed home. Some of the stock boys were in the back of the store entertaining themselves slinging paper clips with rubber bands. Two guys in the front looked at me like they wanted to ask if I knew the deceased. I went over to the customer service counter and asked the $64,000 question [drum roll]:


"Do you have a Nintendo Wii console in stock?" I asked confidently.


"Hahahahahahhahaha" The manager responded. "Listen, lady, the line starts at 3:00 a.m. on Sunday - be here!"


I just stood there, eyes glazed over, looking out the large window at my car, which was being pelted with empty battery boxes and flying receipts. It wasn't that far, I lied to myself, and besides none of these guys would really want to put me in one of those renegade shopping carts and wheel me over to my car for $5, would they? I think I'll stay here a while and hail a cab.