Shopping on Black Friday - A New Tradition

Last night and early this morning I did something I said I would NEVER do again. I fought the crowds to shop on Black Friday.

Shopping on Black Friday used to be a fun tradition I shared with my late daughter Julie, her in laws, and a few friends. Thanksgiving day we would scour the ads. The next day we met in the wee hours, fought the crowds, got the early bargains, grabbed a late breakfast, shopped some more, grabbed a late lunch, more shopping--maybe a trip to the ATM-- then drove back home by dark. It took a day to recover, but by golly I got some great bargains. Even if it was stuff I didn't need, at least I got it cheap.

Since we lost Julie and Mike in a motorcycle accident almost six years ago, shopping on Black Friday hadn't been a priority. My husband Walt and I were busy raising Cari and Michael, Julie and Mike's children. We made sure our grandkids got nice Christmas gifts, but I joked I would rather take a stick in the eye than fight the Black Friday crowds. Actually, it was because shopping on Black Friday brought back memories I wasn't ready to relive.

Then late Thanksgiving night Cari asked if I would take her and a friend of hers shopping.

So, shop we did.

We left the house around 11 p.m., drove to her friend's house, picked her up, then rode around looking for bargains--and a parking spot. I shook my head when I saw the lines of folks camped out in front of Best Buy. I spotted a tent and a bonfire, folks sitting in camp chairs, and a few playing cards at a table. We kept driving. The parking lot at Toys R Us was packed, so we continued on our way.

We ended up at Wal-Mart shortly before the advertised 12:01 a.m. sales began.

Maybe it was because of the cold or maybe the freeing rain, but people literally ran into the store from the parking lot. Inside, the greeter handed out sheets that showed where the advertised items were located. As I wandered around trying to maneuver through the crowded aisles, Cari and her friend, cell phones in hand, let me know where they were as they looked around.

I watched shoppers with wild looks in their eyes pile stuff in their overloaded carts. As expected, toys and games were hot items. Suprisingly, so were towels, steam mops, candle gift sets, luggage, storage tubs, and other household goods.

At 11:59 I stood in a line which did not move for 15 minutes, then it slowly inched forward. While I waited with my few bargains, Cari found a couple of inexpensive accessories she had to have. I passed the time talking with fellow shoppers. A twentyish woman in front of me had a basket filled with toys, games, and some household items. We chatted about Christmases past. She told me how excited her five-year-old son was the year she bought him a dinosaur that she got on sale for $100, but which she later sold at a garage sale for $10. "It was worth it," she said, "just to see the look on his face Christmas morning."

The family behind me took turns shopping while one from their group manned the cart. Not a bad strategy. Eventually our line forked into two. The twenty-something young lady veered towards the left; I to the right. That's when I noticed I could've used the Express line, but I didn't want to get out of line and take the chance of an even longer wait. At the fork I stood behind a family with three jam-packed carts. The checker was a woman about my age who was fast, efficient, and pleasant. By the time we left the store, around 1 a.m., I was about $80 poorer, but richer for the experience.

Outside, Cari ran into a couple young men from school who were selling hot chocolate to shoppers in the parking lot. What a clever way for teenagers to earn Christmas money!

After getting the girls a snack at a drive-through and taking Cari's friend to her house, it was well 2 a.m. when we got back home.

I drank a cup of hot tea and read for a bit then crawled into bed around 3 a.m. My feet ached, my back hurt, but I smiled as my head hit the pillow. Maybe it was time I started a new Black Friday tradition--this one with my granddaughter Cari.