First, here is the quaint definition of Boxing Day as listed at Merriam-Webster Online:
the first weekday after Christmas observed as a legal holiday in parts of the Commonwealth of Nations and marked by the giving of Christmas boxes to service workers (as postal workers)
You can find a more modern definition on wikipedia’s site, which sums it up nicely as:
Contemporary Boxing Day in many countries is now a “shopping holiday” associated with after-Christmas sales.
Normally on Boxing Day I am making my way back home from the island and my only typical exposure to it is joining the crush of people downtown for a bite to eat around 4 p.m. before catching the bus home. Since the snow kept me from traveling, I had all day to enjoy this pseudo-holiday. My plan was simple: catch the #19 downtown around mid-morning, deposit a few paychecks, check out a couple of nearby stores, maybe grab some groceries, then boogie on back home, total exposure to the public maybe two hours, tops.
The first bad sign came from the window. It had started snowing again, dammit. Well, with the forecast calling for the snow later changing to rain, I decide to keep to my plan to avoid the coming slushpocalypse. I bundle up and opt to not wait at the usual bus stop since there is a wall of snow there making the road inaccessible. I go down to the next one and in due time the bus arrives. We head downtown at a somewhat slower pace but it’s not too bad. I deposit my checks then head into Pacific Centre. It’s getting close to lunch so I figure a bite is in order. The place is packed. I check my watch — 11:20 a.m. The food court is totally jammed. I give up. I’l make a sandwich at home, save money, eat healthier and pat myself on the back — all at the same time!
I next mosey over to Future Shop. As I ride the (packed) escalator up, I note the people coming down, about half of them carrying no purchases, just looky-loos out looking because they enjoy feeling like sardines, I guess.
Future Shop, like everywhere else, is packed. After a minute of fighting my way through aisles crowded with consumer zombies, I leave for the London Drugs at the end of the block. It’s also pretty busy but since it sells more practical stuff, it’s not quite packed. Saving big money on a high-def TV motivates people, saving big money on a roll of paper towels, not so much. At LD I realize there is nothing I would be buying anyway so I get the hell out and go to the bus stop. I miss not one, not two but three buses, including one where the driver could have stopped but chose to drive three feet forward to the stop light and not let me on. Ho ho ho.
When I get on the fourth, I am joined by several others, including a street person who asks for $2.50 (I assume this is to cover bus fare, though most drivers will simply wave on those who don’t pay). I say I have no cash on me (I almost never do, in fact, carry any cash on me these days) and she proceeds to ask the other two people. The second is a young man who expresses his displeasure in a loud but not shouting voice. The bus heads off into the snow and the woman wanders about the nearly-empty bus for a bit before she takes the seat in front of me. She turns to me and starts to ask something; I’m not sure what because I’m listening to music by this point. I hear angry young man telling her to bugger off or somesuch. The woman and I make eye contact and she says nothing, I say nothing. She has what almost appears to be a wry smile. After our non-conversation yields no results, she finally moves off and leaves the bus a few stops later.
The rest of the trip is uneventful. I only have one block to walk from the stop to my place but sure enough, I manage to slip. I deftly spread out my hands and catch myself before splatting. Once back home, I make myself a nice cup of tea and vow not to go back outside until June.
While the weather made things worse, I must say the spectacle of all those people out looking for bargains in an atmosphere I can only describe as unpleasant at best and horrible at worst, makes me sad. I don’t expect everyone to be out saving beached whales today or working soup kitchens or even giving cardboard boxes to postal workers, but yeesh, you don’t really need to save 20% off something you don’t really want, anyway. Stay home with your damn family and drink more eggnog!
/humbug
