Betamax

Christmas break is great for many reasons, not the least of which is that you can set very low goals for yourself to achieve each day. Today, I decided to replace my watch band, for example. That's it. That was my goal for the day. And I am proud to say that I nailed it. However, this accomplishment came at a price.
Procuring said watch band necessitated a trip to the local drug store, which I fully realized just today is an entirely anachronistic institution of modern life. Such free-standing drug and sundry huts, I predict, will cease to exist in the near future, for they stock only items of interest to people who hoard defunct home entertainment technologies and hanker for nostalgic candy items from the mid 20th century. Does this describe any tweens that you know?
I may have been in Rite Aid, or perhaps Bartell's. It was hard to know for sure. Muttering elderly shoppers slowly shuffled down the aisles, filling their walker baskets with bryllcreem and rain bonnets as I looked around for the watchband department. Ornery old hens in Christmas sweaters battled over bins of fire sale wrapping paper and bows; I made sure to steer clear of the Christmas aisle lest I get jabbed with a cane. Towers of curious remnant foodstuffs bookended the aisles: dusty bags of mint chips, Karo syrup bottles, and pimento jars.
The watch bands were located in the Department of Defunct Technologies, truly a section to behold. Stop by your local Walgreen's next time you are feeling anthropological, and wish to witness artifacts of ancient peoples on display. The cassette tape section was curiously well-stocked, featuring such recent selections as Kenny G: G Force and the lite metal compilation America Rox: Thunder N Spice. An ample stock of Betamax tapes, a cultish video format that has been out of favor for twenty-one years, were prominently displayed. Although I didn't look too closely at the camera department, I do not doubt that Disc film was probably for sale.
Eager to escape this time-warped temple of pills and antiquated consumer flotsam, I grabbed my watch band and scurried to the check stand. In front of me, a shady-looking dude in his mid-20's clanked his bounty down on the pricing scanner: 8 extra-tall aluminum cans of Extra Super Hold Aqua Net. The clerk and I exchanged looks.
Next time, I'm getting my watch band at Target.

3 Comments:
I agree, there is something decidedly archaic about drug stores. Often I have been in them with their narrow aisles packed full of crappy foodstuffs and the "As Seen On TV" items stacked above every row (in some cases nearly to the ceiling) and wondered exactly how they survive considering they often times are in really pricey locations. Do people really purchase enough of the crap they stock to justify their existence?
semi-off-topic: I was just in Sacramento, CA for the holiday season. If anyone wants to see the effects of capitalism run amok, this is ground zero. Think of any retail chain and there are probably 100+ locations of each. You could say, start at a Target, drive out of the parking lot into the Home Depot, then into Office Depot, PetSmart, Office Max, Kmart, Walgreens, Lowes, Best Buy and after going through the alphabet... wind up at another Target, then another Home Depot, Office Depot... all the way through again until you reach the next Target. I think you can in fact navigate the entire city just by driving through adjoining retail parking lots. Surely the vast expanses of tract homes can't house enough people to purchase enough junk to keep them all open. but apparently, they can. I am glad to be back in Seattle.
I'm visiting Sacramento right now, and I can confirm that Nup is completely dead-on about what Sac is like these days. All of my childhood haunts and teen hangouts have been replaced with corporate retail chain outlets and fast food restaurants. Even the corporate retailers that were already there when I was a kid have been bulldozed and replaced by newer, bigger corporate retailers.
Warning to rest of America: you're next.
get me out
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