my downward spiral in a local wal mart

This happened quite some time ago, but it's still on my mind. The other day I was shooting all over town looking for a vaporizer for my post-vaccinated sick baby. I needed a vaporizer, not a humidifier because the latter apparently harbors bacteria. I went to Target...nothing. I went to Lowe's...nothing. The only store remaining was Wal-Mart. But it was a Saturday. And it was after Thanksgiving. And I was so, so sleep deprived. If it wasn't for the baby, I wouldn't have braved it. But he needed a vaporizer, and it was my responsibility to provide him with one.

The only space in the parking lot designated for Wal Mart was behind a broken down beige motorhome that had been there for weeks. So I had to park miles and miles away at Hollywood Video and trek on foot to certain chaos. A shabby Salvation Army man tinkled away at his bell. A fat woman in a green sweater and red Santa hat ambled in front of me. I took a deep breath, stepped inside and forced a smile at the shriveled people greeter. On my left, people with perms and blenders under their arms waited in the windy return line. On my right, a crowd milled over piles of things on sale: lighters, body soap, plastic watches. I pressed forward to the pharmacy. "Where are the vaporizers?" I asked a young man in a blue vest. He pointed me to aisle fourteen, and I found it. It was at this point that I should have got in line, made my purchase and left. Since I'm here, I unwisely thought, I should get that potato masher I've always wanted. Maybe I'll splurge and buy some undershirts and handkerchiefs while I'm at it. The potato masher was relatively easy to find, but when I got to the undershirts, there was a crowd of tiny Mexican men digging through the mediums. I took a leisurely stroll around the sock aisle, but the Mexicans remained. I found some handkerchiefs, but the Mexicans were still agressively digging through the mediums. This is why there are never any shirts my size, I thought. Because me and Mexican men wear the same size. Suddenly, I was hit by a wave of exhaustion. The baby was sick, and I'd only gotten three hours of sleep the night before. I felt hot and clammy and a little bit sick to my stomach.

I ditched the undershirts, and I made my way to the front of the store. Far in the distance, I could see the promising rectangle of gleaming light from outside. I just had to make it through the checkout. Two twelve year olds in skin tight jeans passed me followed by a sixty year old man intently staring at the girls' asses. A line of men and boys stood dumbly watching rows of televisions blaring Jurassic Park. I felt my throat grow thick.
"Angela," came a voice. I looked up. It was Candy, my neice's mother. She and her friend were doing some Christmas shopping she said.
"The baby's sick," my voice cracked. "Some old man was checking out twelve year olds."
"Gross,"Candy said, but she didn't seem as fazed as I was. "I've got an extra vaporizer if you need it,"she offered.
"Thanks,"I said, and I suddenly felt like crying. "I'm sorry I'm so weird," I said. "I'm just tired."


By the time I got outside, the sun had begun setting. I pulled out onto Redlands Blvd. and made my way home to my sick baby. I thought of the boys in staring at Jurassic park, the milling Mexicans, the old pervert, and I began to cry. This progressed to hysterical sobs. I'm a mom now, I thought, my glasses growing wet. I have to find deals. I have to find vaporizers. I have to shop at...Wal Mart. This is what my life has become. I am one with the Wal Mart crowd.

Later, I thought that maybe I was having a relapse of the "baby blues," as doctors condescendingly refer to post-partum depression, but, weeks later, I still think it was Wal Mart. Kmart is obsolete, and Target is more cosmopolitan. They are both benign. But there is something about Wal Mart, something uniquely depressing that I can't put my finger on. Something that makes me feel like my life is a black hole that I've been sucked into. The baby is better now, and last night I got seven hours of sleep. Needless to say, I haven't been back to Wal Mart, and I don't plan on going any time soon.