Tangents
When I drive to work I take the Girard Avenue exit, but eschew Girard Avenue itself, because the street is lined with double-parked delivery trucks, fast-moving trolleys and slow-moving buses, and stop lights. Instead, I drive a block further, hang a right under I-95 and cut through the shopping center at Aramingo and York:
The re-opened 15 trolley travels up and down Richmond Avenue, and SEPTA’s workers were out doing some rail repairs under the interstate. As I pulled a wide left around the men with torches cutting and shaping the rails, I saw this old guy with a walker watching the proceedings. His jaw was hanging wide open, coke bottle lenses staring, fascinated like he was my 3 year old. As I slowed and then stopped at the intersection, he didn’t move a muscle. When I glanced in the rear view mirror as I crossed the parking lot, he was still standing and staring like it was the best thing in the world. It’s interesting: I work at an agency that provides direct services to senior citizens, and many of the participants,who DEFINITELY have their wits about them, have that same childlike aspect. I don’t mean to be condescending: I look forward to the same.
Later that evening, Christina and I drove up to the King of Prussia Mall. There’s a women’s clothing store that’s been donating huge bags of clothing suitable for job interviews to the low-income and homeless women we serve, and I had a load to pick up. For whatever reason we didn’t eat before we left, and by the time we reached the mall, which is the size of midtown Manhattan, we were starving. But first we had to find the donor.
Are you lost? I know I am, just looking at that damn map. I ended up flagging down a rent-a-cop driving around the never ending parking lot, and he pointed us in the right direction. As we pulled up I mentioned the sushi joint in the mall food court nearby and we decided to try it.
Christina might disagree with me, but it wasn’t the worst food I’ve ever had, just the worst sushi. I could forgive the flaccid vegetable tempura: like any deep fried food, it’s meant to be served fresh, and simply can’t translate well to the exigencies of food court survival. The spicy tuna was unforgiveable, cloying and practically warm with the consistency of oatmeal. The shrimp roll was equally foul. I’m surprised and delighted we didn’t get food poisoning.
As we sat in the court watching people and looking at the stores, I remarked, “It’s not so much the mall itself that annoys me. It’s that there are no one-of-a-kind shops here. They’re all big corporations, they have the same stuff in any other mall.” To our right was a “Pottery Barn Kids” which Christina later said was filled with zombie moms. In front of us, Joseph Bank, a high-end men’s clothing retailer. A fat man and his fat family walked by. A couple sat in front of us and talked about things they wanted and their credit cards. I felt guilty but validated in my sneering as I munched my shitty sushi, watching the soft mall people shuffle on by gawking. An old man stumbled by on a walker, and I heard a familiar tune. I nodded at Christina.
“Do you hear what’s on the p.a.?” I said, grinning.
Born free, as free as the wind blows
As free as the grass grows
Born free to follow your heartLive free and beauty surrounds you
The world still astounds you
Each time you look at a star
I looked out the door to the mall, not ten yards away and the clouds gathering outside. It never did end up raining that night.
Stay free, where no walls divide you
You’re free as the roaring tide
So there’s no need to hide
“Let’s just get the clothes and get out of here,” I said. “This is pretty wack.”
We dumped the last of the “food”, and scuttled past Talbots, Eddie Buaer, Talbots Kids, Teavana, and a host of other clones.
Born free, and life is worth living
But only worth living
’cause you’re born free
3 Responses to “Tangents”
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August 1st, 2007 at 1:32 am
[...] a donation to pick up. For whatever reason we didn’t eat before we … article continues at Brendan brought to you by FASHION and [...]
August 1st, 2007 at 10:38 am
Brilliant.
August 1st, 2007 at 9:49 pm
Yeah, the sushi really was terrible. Based on that dining experience I would say that the Americanization of sushi is complete. I was surprised no one asked me if I would like fries and a super sized coke with that.
It was a battle to keep the food in my mouth. The freakishly “average” groups of consumers surrounding us, the shopping plaza that reminded me of the opulent Roman Empire just before the collapse, combined with “born free” really didn’t help matters. I thought I would be sick on many levels