My mom and I embarked on a journey early this afternoon. The Mall. I haven’t enjoyed this establishment since I was about 16 and would beg my mom to drop my friends and I off so we could walk around until we got bored and wanted to be picked up. If you’re into people watching, The Mall is the place to go. We arrive at noon-my mom had this idea that we had to be there when the place opened. Problem is-neither of us have been there (well she has but in the late afternoon) in so long we didn’t know the stores don’t open until 12:30 on Sundays. I meet her at the secret place everyone has to park-the level the food court occupies-and sit in the car until about 12:20. We walk in, food court buzzing with pre-teens enjoying their first jaunts of freedom…the old people who have just finished their morning walks-wearing sweat suits and those dark glasses one usually wears after having one’s eyes dialated.

Of course the freaks, long hair, makeup, black clothes-and I’m describing the boys-the girls all looked like trampy street walkers but hey, who am I-just a 33 year old female who for the life of me cannot remember why I even enjoyed The Mall when I was young. The entire purpose of this trip was to find a nice outfit for an interview I have Tuesday-I have to dress to impress because this has the potential of being a career and we all know the clothes make the person. Have I also mentioned I loathe shopping? I’m not your typical female-even when I have money to spend, I go in, get what I need/want and leave. Simple as that. No browsing involved. My mother, on the other hand, is a browser. Put the two of us together-arguments waiting to happen. At any rate, we have to sit on the concrete type seating going around the bottom floor (in the middle where a huge waterfall used to be, it’s been reduced to a small fountain, which totally sucks because the waterfall was what made the Charleston Town Center so unique when it first opened), near Starbucks. Now, keep in mind, West Virginia is always the last state to see anything when it comes to “hipness”, I think Starbucks has been in the mall maybe 5 years. Why does it seem as if the only people who drink coffee or anything with the word latte at the end of it, look like they’re either 5 minutes away from suicide, or, they missed their callings as librarians? I watched one girl working there, dyed red hair, extremely tight ponytails on each side of her head-and those Emo glasses I wish I could wear but they only make me look like a mental patient-she looked like a really horrid version of Pippi Longstocking. Blah, blah, blah I find a pair of slacks, jacket and a silky shirt to wear underneath, we head out because I’m done with my shopping venture and my mom decides she wants a coffee “from that place.” “Mother, you’re going to pay $3 for a cup of coffee there.” Her-”It must be good look at all the people standing in line.” Me-”It’s all the suicidals who didn’t succeed last night getting their mid-day caffeine fix so they can finish the job tonight.” Of course she didn’t understand the connection and decides she’s going to pay $3 for coffee since everyone else was. I decide to be adventurous myself and try a Chai Tea Latte. Try saying that 3 times fast. Or once for that matter. $2.90 for a tall-a small if purchased anywhere else. It was good, thank goodness I like tea-my mother liked it too, she kept saying, “It has something in it.” No shit-it’s chai tea. We leave. I get home and call to make sure she made it home ok… she hated the coffee. “I bought the mild but it tasted like really strong coffee.” There is no way to explain to someone who doesn’t get the whole Starbucks thing-that it’s strong because it’s “the thing.” She said “well they can have it.” I don’t think she’ll be buying coffee from Starbucks again. I did like the tea but not enough to go running back for more. Unless I become artsy fartsy, start wearing Emo glasses and dressing in all black carrying a huge bag with every piece of crap I own in it-then again, it would be a change of pace. Instead of sitting at home, I could sit at Starbucks and discuss my woes with other freaks. Yes, I may just do that. I am now off to do laundry. Do Emo freaks do laundry?