The Race

From the time the doors opened, it was a frenzied, crazy rush through the store.   My feet almost didn’t touched the shining lino as the crush of people shoved from behind like cattle to grab, grab, grab at the best deals…

Yes, it’s a love/hate relationship we have with Black Friday… and it means so much to many and so little to others.

And yet, I go and put myself through this torture each year just to find a bargain… to fight over that one item I might want, need, adore… relish!

But really, do I need all this shit?

Not really…

It’s just the competition of it all, the race, the feeling of knowing I might get something somebody wants and – nah-nah-nah! – I have it, and you don’t!  Hahahaa!!!

It’s the feeling of being the bully in the schoolyard after all the years of being picked on, and finally being able to push, shove and climb and conquer the crowds of this insane day to find what you want and rip it off the shelf and say it’s yours!

Yes I’m being a bitch about this, and yes, it makes me feel good to do this too… but it’s Black Friday.

It’s an insane day of shopping.

Some people go to begin their Christmas Shopping… some go to ‘browse’… Me?  I go just for the competition of seeing what I can get into my trolley and how far I can take it.

Well, I did until the violence broke out…

It started out with a run of the mill hair-pulling, nail-scratching girl fight… not bad to stand by and watch.  That was until a gun was pulled and …

…BANG!

It was deafening.

Everyone dropped to the floor and left the two standing, but I dropped faster than everyone else.

How did a gun get through the doors?  I'm not sure, but that was the least of my problems...

The next thing I knew, I had people fussing over me.

I couldn’t move.

Now, the race wasn’t for me to do my Christmas shopping…

…no… this was a much different race.

Black Friday had turned into a race to save my life.