Growing Small

I went out to Tigard on a city bus this morning and picked up a pair of glasses at this huge mall called Washington Square.

There's a Washington Square in San Francisco and one in New York, and likely in several other cities.  This place is not like any of them.

I'd never been there before and I'll never return if I can help it.

I'm still trying to get the creepiness of the experience out of my system this evening.

It had been a long, long time since I'd been in a mall, so the experience threw me into cultural shock.

Or was it financial shock...

I had to wait an hour or so for my glasses, so I found the most appealing spot for my sensibilities in the entire, vast wasteland, which was Dick's Sporting Goods. I'd never been in a Dick's Sporting Goods store before today.

Place felt like it was designed to sap the appeal of sports as its first function.

I felt more of my once great love for sports bleeding out of my body. I grew very tired, like the essence was being drained from my being--like I might collapse right there among the fly rods and golf clubs.

I looked at the guns, which sort of scared me. What would I do with one of those?  I was in a mall, after all.  It was a sick thought, one I would not have had but for recent news stories.

I found an exit.  I needed air.  I watched a semi trailer fasten at a loading dock.  That was interesting for a few moments--something familiar from my past work-life.

I asked a passerby for the time.  She answered reluctantly, like she thought I was a nuisance. Indeed, perhaps I am.

Earlier, I'd looked without success for a wall clock in Dick's, thinking it must be true.  They don't want you to know what time it is when you're trapped in the store.  You might see the time and realize you have to be somewhere else at that very moment.

I walked the length of the mall for the third or fourth time, my eyes roving for the hidden clock. Nothing. Until the perturbed lady told me it was 11. I knew it was later than that.

I wanted the exact time, dammit.

I thought of all the awful things that might happen in the next Dick's Sporting Goods company meeting when the manager confronted the retail clerk about a missed sales opportunity.  Me roaming around the store unattended.

You let him walk away.  You're fired!
Gimme a break.  The guy didn't have any money.  I could tell by looking at him!
Alright.  You can keep your job for now.  Don't let it happen again though.
That clown will never be back.

My glasses were finally ready. I put them on and walked to the transit station.  I waited 10 min. for a bus, and when it came I got on and the driver got off and the bus sat there for another 15 min.

I read, testing my new bifocals.  They seemed to work fine, as I soon discovered the book I am reading is quite good.  I had wondered about that, not knowing because I wasn't seeing all the words.

I got off the bus near Portland State.  That is when I noticed something about bifocals that I wasn't aware of--when you walk and look down at your feet while striding along you seem to shrink.

It's an odd sensation.  I felt about half my actual height, which is over six feet.  I seemed smaller than usual, and everyone and all of the inanimate objects around me appeared to be taller.

A hedgerow which I know is only as tall as my hips suddenly appears to be shoulder-high as I walk past it.  My legs have shrunk!  It was taking me a long time to gain distance, like a a kid walking with adults.

I'm seeing the world for the first time like a little person, I realized.

I had become one of the little people.

When I got home I took the glasses off and I have not put them back on.  I have returned to normal size for now, but I'm not looking forward to tomorrow.  If I put the bifocals on when I'm outside the world may crush me.


TS