Black Friday memories

By Deon Roberts, Online Editor 

Today, the day after Thanksgiving, is referred to as the biggest shopping day of the year. It’s Black Friday, when people stuff shopping carts with bargain-priced items. Just the day before, they stuffed themselves with turkey, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie. 

I am not a regular participant in this national tradition. I guess I value my sleep more than cheaply priced electronics.

I realize I’m passing up a chance to do some early holiday shopping and save money at the same time. But it’s about more than sleep. Black Friday is too frenzied for my tastes. I prefer shopping to be a more peaceful experience.

Only once did I get a taste of Black Friday. It was November 2002. I was a reporter in Hammond. My assignment was to visit Hammond-area stores and cover the madness. 

I woke up early, although I can’t remember the exact time. It was still dark outside and cold — very cold. 

The plan was to meet the photographer and carpool to Wal-Mart. When we arrived at the store, the massive parking lot was full. It was still pitch black, but people were already lined up inside and outside the store, thinking not about the cold but about what aisles they should hit first. Inside, shoppers gripped shopping carts, staring hungrily at the aisles before them and waiting for the clock to hit 6 a.m., when the store would officially open and the race would begin. 

When the time came, a Wal-Mart employee made an announcement on the loudspeaker. But people didn’t wait for the announcer to finish. What happened next was a blur. A stampede of bodies rushed forward. They began grabbing items and piling them into their carts: televisions, coffee machines, toys and DVD players. Some filled the carts so high, it was a wonder how they could see where they were going. 

Merchandise evaporated from the shelves. Standing still, I felt like I was watching a movie on fast forward. Within 20 minutes, the store had already sold out of turkey fryers. Within 30 minutes, all the sets of children’s building blocks were gone.

The scene looked like a riot, minus the fires, violence and smashed shop windows. In fact, there was no hostility. There was no Cabbage Patch Kids-style shopping, no wrestling nastily on the floor over items. No, these were people who do this every year. These were people who know the Black Friday rules: Whoever gets there first wins. Speed-shopping professionals that they are, they know that fighting over an item costs them precious shopping time. And on Black Friday, time is everything.

Last night, I heard that some stores in the New Orleans area would be open as early as 4 a.m. Not for me. At 4 a.m., I was in my warm bed, recovering from ingestion brought on by too much eating. 

One Black Friday is enough.