Wii Quest - Part 2
_storyteller_ and I were parked out front of the Fred Meyer at 5:45am. It was a clear, cold morning, and while there were a few cars scattered around the very large parking lot, there was no line in front of the door. I congratulated myself on beating the rush, and we decided there was no point in standing out in the cold if there was no competition.
I left the car running with the iPod plugged into the radio playing Christmas music. _storyteller_ and I told stories and enjoyed the opportunity for extended conversation. Every so often another car would pull into the lot. Most parked near us, but those who got out were employees who soon vanished through the employee door with their coffee cups. A few cars roared past us, and while we wondered what in the world people were doing drag racing through the Fred Meyer parking lot at 6:30am, we didn't dwell on it.
Still no one came to line up for The Most Desired Gadget of the Season. I remarked on this to _Storyteller_, and groused mildly that there had been no reason for us to get up so early. "Lack of resistance does not mean the mission was not successful," he replied.
6:54am. A few more cars pulled in and parked, and this time it looked like our fellow shoppers had arrived. "Time to get in line," I declared. We got out of the car and headed for the newly-cleaned glass sliding doors. As is my habit, I glanced around, getting a sense of what was where in the wider landscape.
And saw that there was a second pair of doors, on the other end of the long building, and there was a big line in front of them.
I let out a very unladylike expletive, and we quick-stepped over to the doors that opened directly onto the electronics section.
People had been camped out there for quite some time, complete with lawn chairs and blankets.
As we fell in at the end of the line, we were told that a manager had come out just a few minutes previously and handed out fifteen tickets. They had run out long before everyone got one.
"Lack of resistance may not mean the mission is a failure," _Storyteller_ remarked dryly, "but poor intelligence does."
We waited until the doors opened, but the ticket-holders were the only ones who would be getting Wii's there that morning, and the manager didn't know when the next shipment was coming in.
We discussed doing some Christmas shopping while we were there, but I really wasn't in the mood. I kept kicking myself for not wondering more about those other cars, not paying attention to the size of the building or the weird lack of other people in line.
We were due at my parents' house for breakfast and then a day of watching the LOTR trilogy on my parents' widescreen HDTV (my birthday celebration). _Storyteller_ gallantly volunteered to tell them "By the time we got there, the line was already longer than there were Wii's," but I told him I'd tell the whole truth.
If my family was the cruel type that would hold something like this over my head for years as a mockery, then I would have taken him up on his offer, but my family is not like that and I'm every bit as much of a storyteller as _Storyteller_ -- and this was simply too good a story not to tell, even if it was on myself.
My father just shook his head. It hadn't even occurred to him that we might not realize there were two entrances.
They fed us breakfast anyway, and then lunch, and then a homemade prime rib dinner.
My dad is still trying to obtain a Wii, but my daughter may have to settle for a promissary note from him come Christmas Day.
I feel a bit like I let my dad down -- but in the long run, the fact that I showed up because he asked me to was most important. The daughter will stil get her Wii, but I had only one chance to say yes to Dad.
I left the car running with the iPod plugged into the radio playing Christmas music. _storyteller_ and I told stories and enjoyed the opportunity for extended conversation. Every so often another car would pull into the lot. Most parked near us, but those who got out were employees who soon vanished through the employee door with their coffee cups. A few cars roared past us, and while we wondered what in the world people were doing drag racing through the Fred Meyer parking lot at 6:30am, we didn't dwell on it.
Still no one came to line up for The Most Desired Gadget of the Season. I remarked on this to _Storyteller_, and groused mildly that there had been no reason for us to get up so early. "Lack of resistance does not mean the mission was not successful," he replied.
6:54am. A few more cars pulled in and parked, and this time it looked like our fellow shoppers had arrived. "Time to get in line," I declared. We got out of the car and headed for the newly-cleaned glass sliding doors. As is my habit, I glanced around, getting a sense of what was where in the wider landscape.
And saw that there was a second pair of doors, on the other end of the long building, and there was a big line in front of them.
I let out a very unladylike expletive, and we quick-stepped over to the doors that opened directly onto the electronics section.
People had been camped out there for quite some time, complete with lawn chairs and blankets.
As we fell in at the end of the line, we were told that a manager had come out just a few minutes previously and handed out fifteen tickets. They had run out long before everyone got one.
"Lack of resistance may not mean the mission is a failure," _Storyteller_ remarked dryly, "but poor intelligence does."
We waited until the doors opened, but the ticket-holders were the only ones who would be getting Wii's there that morning, and the manager didn't know when the next shipment was coming in.
We discussed doing some Christmas shopping while we were there, but I really wasn't in the mood. I kept kicking myself for not wondering more about those other cars, not paying attention to the size of the building or the weird lack of other people in line.
We were due at my parents' house for breakfast and then a day of watching the LOTR trilogy on my parents' widescreen HDTV (my birthday celebration). _Storyteller_ gallantly volunteered to tell them "By the time we got there, the line was already longer than there were Wii's," but I told him I'd tell the whole truth.
If my family was the cruel type that would hold something like this over my head for years as a mockery, then I would have taken him up on his offer, but my family is not like that and I'm every bit as much of a storyteller as _Storyteller_ -- and this was simply too good a story not to tell, even if it was on myself.
My father just shook his head. It hadn't even occurred to him that we might not realize there were two entrances.
They fed us breakfast anyway, and then lunch, and then a homemade prime rib dinner.
My dad is still trying to obtain a Wii, but my daughter may have to settle for a promissary note from him come Christmas Day.
I feel a bit like I let my dad down -- but in the long run, the fact that I showed up because he asked me to was most important. The daughter will stil get her Wii, but I had only one chance to say yes to Dad.