The turkey was done. Done like dinner, because it was American Thanksgiving dinner. The pies and other glorious pastries had come out for dessert. And the relatives I was visiting on Long Island, New York, were well into their annual ritual – eating, drinking, joking and generally over-indulging – during their Nov. 27-to-30 holiday. Except, for them, after the turkey, the dressing and the dessert, there was one other indulgence required.
“OK. Where are the flyers?” my cousin asked. “Gotta check the sales.”
I’d completely forgotten. Not only was Thursday Thanksgiving… Not only was it the busiest travel day in the United States (nearly 44 million Americans on the move, according to the American Automobile Association)… And not only was it the annual day to binge on the bird, go for the gravy and dally on the desserts…
But it was also the day to plan on an all-nighter at the department, electronic and big box stores for the once-a-year Black Friday sales. For the uninitiated, Black Friday is the first day after Thanksgiving and the first day, according to retailers, when they officially turn profitable for the year or “move into the black.”
For the next several hours, while some in the family snuck off to have a second or third helping of turkey dinner, other members – mostly the women – began analyzing which Black Friday sales put the most savings into the smallest geographical area. And I wondered, was it electronics, was it high-end jewelry, was it wide-screen TVs and DVDs the family wanted bargains for most? No. It turned out the shopping target of the night (no pun intended) was going to be the nearest big-box store where the ladies could find socks, shirts, underwear and jeans on sale.
“My son can get regular designer jeans for 10 or 12 dollars a pair,” my cousin told me.
And once the flyers had been digested, the travel plans began. One shift would hit the big box stores about 10 p.m. (they wouldn’t get home until after 1 a.m.) And the second (younger) set of shoppers decided to take in midnight madness, on the eve of Black Friday (they shopped until 3 or 4 in the morning). All this uber-shopping after all that uber-eating. I never got that far; I cashed in well before the first contingent landed at Wal-Mart.
Of course, in New York now, everything’s geared to Christmas. But not so much the carols, the Sally Ann bells or the rum punch. In NYC, it’s Christmas favourites ’round the clock on the radio, fake snow in downtown shopping windows and the Thanksgiving Day Parade (sponsored by the Macy’s department store) with its famous helium-filled balloons featuring every make-believe character on the planet from Spiderman, the Pillsbury Doughboy to Felix the Cat (actually the first balloon created for the 1927 parade). Of course, nothing in New York – not even a parade – is done on a small scale. The Macy’s parade began at 9 o’clock Thursday morning and went on for three full hours. It attracted about 3.5 million New Yorkers to the sidewalks along storied 6th Avenue of the Americas. And it planted 50 million TV viewers from coast to coast in front of their TV sets for the duration.
“It’s the Macy’s Day Parade,” somebody pointed out. “It’s even superseded Thanksgiving.”
During my stay in New York – I think it was Macy’s Day plus two – the family decided to take in a movie. OK, I thought, after all the consumption of Thanksgiving, maybe easing into a holiday movie would be a pleasant antidote. Well, not necessarily in New York. We travelled to a Cineplex complex in the area, where there were two full neon panels offering no fewer than 20 feature films. We chose a modest little feature – “Interstellar” and its nearly three-hour running time; we entered the screening theatre about 6:30 p.m. and emerged just before 10 p.m.
On Sunday afternoon, I returned from my visit with the family in New York. I got to the airport in plenty of time, got through security and breathed a sigh of relief. I had nothing to show for my trip, not even an “I Love New York” souvenir T-shirt. Nope. I’d let my U.S. family’s bargain-hunting expedition and all-night shopping binge settle into the background. I’d let their already frantic run-to-Christmas happen south of the border. After all that consuming – in every sense of the word – I was ready to come home and let Christmas begin to happen in a less commercial Canadian way. But wait! As soon as I got into the car at Pearson and turned on the car radio, what did I hear?
“Countdown to ‘Cyber Monday,’” the Toronto radio ad said. “It’s time for the Great Online Shopping Festival, or GOSF.”
GOSF? We really are on the verge of becoming the 51st U.S. economic state.
