The sidewalks in my neighborhood are a patchwork collection of concrete, paving stones, and flagstone slabs meeting at irregular intervals. With each house, the footpath changes color and texture, but when a pedestrian passes along one of the flagstone strips, there is a real possibility for a turned ankle. It seems like one stone will end, and the other will haphazardly begin four inches away and half a foot down. Thank god the Rollerblade revolution has peacefully concluded, or we'd have quite the adolescent mortality rate here in Boulder.
I dodge these pitfalls when I walk down to Pearl Street. In particular, there are bars and restaurants, as well as plenty of funky little stores that sell anything from books to statues of the buddha. Sadly, my favorite store on "The Mall" just closed down. It sold fun, quique one-off cards, but I guess people are cutting back on their boutique card shopping. Fortunately, there is also one that sells notebooks, pens, cards...a stationary shop. Of course, we're in Boulder, so it's called a "Paperie", but cognates are a powerful thing. Plus, I speak a little French. Ju Sui Glamour.
When I got to the store, the mission was to find a particular style of notebook as a gift for Christmas. I asked the woman who was working at the cash register if they carried such an item, but before she could respond, a patron turned to me and told me that I should really go to Design Within Reach. They have exactly what I'm looking for. At first, I looked at the woman as though to thank her, but then realized she didn't work there, and I'd stepped into a weird conflict of interest. The woman behind the register tried to inform me that they had entire shelves dedicated to notebooks, and surely I could find something to my liking. The shopper just sort of grinned, as if to say "We both know you want to leave to see if I'm right. Design Within Reach. It's only four blocks away".
In fact, I did kind of want to leave to see if they had exactly what I was looking for, but felt an odd sense of duty to at least make a passing glance at the wall of notebooks. I felt bad for the owner, who had clearly not been to pleased to have her customers advising other clientele to head for the exits. Didn't I have some kind of responsibility to at least try to find what I was looking for in her shop? I remembered my favorite card store had just shuttered. Now, I'm gonna have to get all my cards from Target, and even if they're cheaper, they'll never be unique. I can personally guarantee that Target Corporation will never sell a card that has small, colored squares and writing that says "You are Fucking Awesome." If I headed to DWR, this cute little paperie might be next.
Thankfully, my phone rang, and I was able to say "Hold on, I'm in a store. Let me step out." loudly enough to take my leave with an excuse. I needed to see about a notebook that I could get only four blocks away. Everyone in town is raving about it, and I don't want to miss the boat.
As I finished my conversation on the phone, I started walking towards the DWR store. My mind was wandering back to how I'd taken my wallet and bolted from a store, and how the owner must be standing behind her counter looking at the remaining customer with violence in her heart. Maybe I was giving myself a bit too much credit, but, to be honest, that's kind of my thing.
Deep in thought, I stumbled unprepared into the ambush. The people who ask for your money or a signature for a ballot initiative are usually easy to spot. They're the ones that another pedestrian is shaking their head "No" to while hurrying away. And, they usually have a clipboard. I see these people every day that I'm down in Denver walking to catch my bus or train, and they're a mainstay on Pearl Street, too. I just want to keep walking, and don't want to take their requisite "one minute" to save anything. Some electronic distraction is the best defense, but as I'd been lost in the thought of competitive notebook peddling, my phone was nowhere near my ear.
"Do you have a minute..."
I knew where this was headed. The Environment? No, I'm sorry, I don't. Can't you see that I'm wearing a Patagonia jacket? They give 1% to the environment. Isn't that enough for you people?
"for gay rights?"
I've never heard that one. Caught totally unprepared, I could only be honest and look her right in the eyes and reply, "No." I kept walking.
It came out so harshly. Yes, I do have a minute, just not this minute. You see, I've gotta get to Design....oh Jesus. I'm no bigot, but I felt like I had voted yes on Proposition 8. I felt like I had voted according to Focus on the Family's command. I felt like a jerk.
I hope she could understand that I was just doing my part to...to...to... To what? Close local businesses? Just as I had when I blew off going into the card store two weeks ago, and right before they closed their doors for good, too?
When I got to the corner, I got did what any caring, upstanding citizen would do. I kept on walking, zigzagged my way back to the paperie. I might not ensure civil unions, but I might just keep a local stationary shop buzzing along through these tough economic times.
No comments:
Post a Comment