Black Friday

I never went Black Friday shopping before today.

To be truthful, every time someone mentions Black Friday I think that they're talking about some Catholic feast day. Ash Wednesday. Palm Sunday. Black Friday.

Then context happens. Shopping and Thanksgiving are mentioned, and I remember that Black Friday is not a Catholic feast day but an American retail phenomenon.

I'd never partaken of this retail phenomenon. The closest I'd ever come was when Baby Sister and I went shopping on the Saturday after Thanksgiving two years ago. She begged me to take her and I didn't understand why until I saw the two- and three-dollar shirts and then I asked myself, "Why are they having this incredible sale?" and then I remembered Black Friday and realized I was looking at its remnants. Its carcass, if you will. And Baby Sister and I were the vultures picking over it after the hungry herd had moved on.

Less poetically, we got lots of cheap clothes that day.

Well, since I've moved out on my own, it's been a trial to find winter clothes because I do so hate parting with my money. But clothes cost money. So to avoid parting with my money, I've avoided buying them.

Eventually I thoroughly tired of wearing the same eight shirts to work over and over. I set a budget and headed to my favorite lightly-used clothing store. It was newly closed, and the other lightly-used clothing store only had one shirt I liked.

In frustration, I asked myself how I could get nice clothes inexpensively.

And then I remembered.

Black Friday.

Baby Sister agreed to go with me. I lured her with the promise of lunch. At 12:30 in the afternoon, we arrived at our first store.

Let me tell you. There were a lot of people there. And they were buying a lot of stuff. I wanted to tell them that they were ridiculous except I was there too, so, you know.

Everything was going well. Baby Sister and I were finding stuff to try on and discussing the merits of tank tops when I made a dreadful mistake. I left Baby Sister on her own while I tried on a sweater. When I came back, she was gone.

I walked around the store. She wasn't there.

I called her. It went to voice mail. Baby Sister's phone is never on nor on her person.

I was beginning to realize that I really should not have left her alone. I mean, okay. Baby Sister is now a teenager. She can date and she's almost as tall as me. And I admit, she had me fooled into thinking that she could take care of herself while I stepped away for a moment. But the longer she was missing, the more I remembered that she was as defenseless and vulnerable as a newborn puppy. She couldn't possibly survive in this clothing store without me!

"How can you think about shopping when my baby sister is missing?" I yelled at everyone around me. Loudly. But in my head.

I searched the store a second time. I was beginning to be afraid that maybe there was a Black Friday bandit who walks off with kids while everyone is distracted by bargain prices.

They say you should never get between a mother animal and her baby. I've never been a mom so I don't know about that. But it's my personal opinion that you should never get between the big sister animal and the little sister animal, either. It had been ten minutes and I was ready to tear apart the store and everybody in it to find my sister.

Then I checked my phone.

Due to the amount of junk in my purse, I had not felt it vibrate when Baby Sister had sent me seven chirpy messages from her iPod in three minutes.

Baby Sister: Awkward Mormon Girl

Baby Sister: I'm in line it's super long

Baby Sister: You should probably hurry

Baby Sister: So cool

Baby Sister: Ps turn in your phone

Baby Sister: I'm dead seious

Baby Sister: You need to learn to turn on your phone

And I was like, "EXCUSE ME? Who needs to learn to turn on their phone, exactly?"

By the time I found Baby Sister in line, I wasn't sure if I wanted to hug her or hit her.

Also I'm not sure if I want to hug or hit Black Friday.