As a species, we humans have come a long way in the past 200,000 years. Modern technology offers instantaneous communication to anywhere on the planet, miraculous medical treatments that allow us to treat or prevent disease like never before, and a greater understanding of our world and universe from the sub-atomic level out into the far reaches of space. Nowhere is the spirit of modernism more prevalent than in the United States where mass-produced essentials and non-essentials are available for purchase 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. Well, maybe 364 because even Wal-Mart closes briefly on Christmas. Being so far removed from our hunter-gatherer beginnings, we've reached a level of civilization that has suppressed our primal natures. Well, except in Las Vegas. And except for that one day a year on which we allow 200,000 years of evolution to be undone in a single instant: The Day After Thanksgiving.
3:33 am: I get dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and a coat, grab my iPod, and head out to Wal-Mart in anticipation of some killer deals. Well, one, really. I'm going for a Samsung digital camera. I know, one of those non-essentials I mentioned, but, hey, a 10 megapixel camera for $70?!?!?
4:01 am: I arrive at Wal-Mart, somewhat dismayed at the number of cars already in the parking lot. I figured getting there a whole hour before the big sales hit that I'd be in decent shape. As I walk into the store, I see that they've placed covered palettes of the doorbuster items along the middle of the main walkways and groups of people are congregating around the items they got up early for. My spirits are heartened by the fact that there aren't too many people around some of the bigger deals, like the 50-inch flat screen TVs.
4:11 am: By relying on hunter-gatherer instinct, I find the group of people congregated around the cameras and, with some agitation, realize that there are more people waiting for the cameras than any of the other items. Still, I stake out a claim as close to the cameras as I can and put on the iPod to pass the time listening to the Grammar Girl podcast. (Yes, I know I'm a nerd).
4:13 am: Has it really only been two minutes?
4:16 am: I start the next episode of Grammar Girl, How to Write Percents. Did you know that you should always write a percent using numerical digits rather than with words?
4:20 am: Only 40 minutes to go!
4:23 am: Being the nerd that I am, I start trying to estimate how many cameras are under the opaque plastic covering and trying to calculate my odds of getting one. By guessing at the rough dimensions of the camera box and looking at the size of the covered palette, I figure that there are at least 75 cameras, a fact that gives me pretty good odds and makes me hopeful despite the growing crowd.
4:27 am: Some guy standing on the other side of the palette is giving me the evil eye. Do you remember in Meet the Parents when Robert de Niro silently reminds Ben Stiller that he's under observation by repeatedly pointing at his eyes and then at Ben? Well, that's what this guy was doing to me. Except he wasn't using his hands, just his eyes. Or maybe it was just my imagination. Anyway, Grammar Girl is now talking about subject-verb agreement, which is a pretty important topic so I ignore the evil-eyed guy across the way and focus on improving my grammar.
4:30 am: A half hour left - gettin' closer.
4:32 am: Somebody pokes me and says something to me, which I can't hear because I'm busy learning about proper sentence length. I pull out the iPod plugs and it turns out it was my neighbor's niece, which I met at my neighbor's swimming pool. We chatted a bit and then I resumed listening to Grammar Girl.
4:35 am: Did I mention that I'm still wearing my sweatshirt and my coat? Not just a light jacket, my winter coat. Not only that, but the number of people waiting for cameras is steadily growing and it's getting warm. Really warm.
4:38 am: Still 22 minutes left? Will it ever end!?!? Things get even stranger as I listen to Grammar Girl discuss Yoda's sentence phrasing. I'll admit that I'm a big Star Wars fan - I've seen all the movies many times and I've read nearly 50 (yes, fifty) Star Wars novels. But hearing Grammar Girl dissect Yoda's dialogue was a bit eerie. It didn't help that I glanced over at the evil-eye guy again and he gave me a look that said 'if you get a camera and I don't, you're a dead man'.
4:40 am: 20 minutes to go?
4:42 am: I feel a stream of sweat run down my back, but I know that just 18 minutes separate me from new-camera Zen.
4:48 am: The crowd is getting quite large by now and it's really getting toasty.
4:51 am: My attention is drawn away from Grammar Girl's lecture on the use of the word 'graduated', as I realize that the crowd on the other side of the cameras has parted. After a few moments of confusion, I realized that someone had fainted. Yes, that's right, passed out cold, on the floor at Wal-Mart, with 9 minutes to go till chaos.
4:52 am: A couple of Wal-Mart managers arrive on the scene and, not wanting to move the body (still alive, mind you), attempt to get the crowd to clear some room for the poor lady on the floor. One of the managers leaves, presumably to call 911, and the other one yells out at the crowd on that side of the palette to step back a bit. After waiting for an hour (or more), people are reluctant to give up their hard-won proximity to the mystical altar around which we have congregated. Perhaps sensing futility, the manager decides that the 0.01 inches given up are enough.
4:54 am: The manager again tries to get people to step back a bit so at least some air can get in and circulate. There surely isn't any air circulation where I'm standing and sweat is now freely flowing down my back. Again, the attempt at crowd control fails miserably and tension mounts as the clock approaches the magical hour.
4:57 am: Once again, a half-hearted attempt is made to get the crowd to move back and, once again, nobody does.
4:58 am: Chaos reigns! About 30 feet away, someone jumps the gun and grabs for an item from her stack. And, with that single move, social restraint dissolves and those 200,000 years of progress fade away as if we were suddenly surrounding the carcass of a recently slain creature and were struggling for enough of a share to feed the family back home in the cave. How do I describe the utter and complete pandemonium that resulted? Nobody even attempted to remove the plastic covering from over the cameras; rather, people started tearing at it, ripping holes large enough to extract the lifeblood. The crowd surged forward, pushing me to one side, away from the cameras. Things started to happen in slow motion - the Wal-Mart manager was trying to prevent the lady on the ground from getting trampled while people were fighting to get their hands on a camera, and, at the same time, people who had the precious cameras were fighting to get back out from the center of the throng. I reached my arm in, grasping for a box as the manager yelled in an effort to counteract the devolution, but the call of nature was too strong. After a few attempts, I grabbed two boxes and quickly pulled them out and drew them close, safe from swiping. I handed one to my neighbor's niece and attempted to make my way out of the melee. I pushed through and headed for the registers to pay and escape to safety as quickly as possible. As I walked away, I realized that a second Wal-Mart employee had joined the manager, both working to keep the fainted one safe. And then, someone said, "That's it - the cameras are gone." The bones were picked clean in 1 minute and 39 seconds flat.
5:02 am: I trade $73 and my humanity for a wicked-cool digital camera.
5:03 am: A gaggle of Wal-Mart workers were at the doorway, checking receipts as people fled to their vehicles. I walked out of the store and saw an ambulance pull up. Immediately, the paramedics jumped out, rushing into the store to tend to the fallen woman. I wondered to myself how they were going to make it through the disorder. As I made my way to my car, I realized the parking lot was completely full. And I don't just mean that every parking spot was taken. Any spot that looked large enough to park without blocking more than two other vehicles was filled with a car. All along the sides of the streets leading away from the store, cars were parked and their occupants were undoubtedly battling for those non-essentials that make modern life so great.
5:04 am: I vow to never again, ever again, go to Wal-Mart on the Day After Thanksgiving.
Nothing says 'Happy Holidays' like a primal brawl.