After work. Sleeves rolled up, collar unbuttoned. The sun beats down, and the air is stagnant. My car has leather seats that burn the skin. I roll all the windows down before closing the door, and I turn the AC on full blast. It’s after 4, and I have to pick my sister up from work at 5:30. I could go home, but I don’t want to because once I do I’ll be there all night. There is nothing to do in this town and no one to do it with. I should get something to eat, as I’ve barely had any food today, but even though my stomach is growling, every fast food option seems disgusting.
This week I told my coworker I wanted to buy a flatscreen TV. I still have the old boxy cathode ray TV I’ve had for thirteen years, and I’ve wanted something with better picture quality for a while now, but every time I consider it, I conclude that I don’t need one. She said, “So? I have lots of things I don’t need.” So do I. I have a computer, a tablet, and a phone. I bought a bamboo plant this week. I have a lamp with a blue lightbulb in it. Hundreds of books. Sunglasses. Netflix. Yesterday, I bought two blueberry-pineapple drinks - one for myself, one for my mom.
In that case, I consider buying a flatscreen TV. Because I want one. But they’re expensive, and I can’t justify spending $200 on something I absolutely don’t need. There is no practical use in replacing my old TV with a new one. I bet I can find a cheap one at a garage sale or something.
I turn the key in the ignition and venture onto the road. Windows down, music blaring out from my phone hooked up to the stereo. If it doesn’t shake the rearview mirrors, it’s not loud enough. Today I want it louder. Hardcore and metal blasts in my face, blasts down the street, windows down until the AC gets cool enough. A black guy in a shirt and tie blasting metal down the street, headbanging, and singing along. Amused, I often wonder if that looks funny to passersby. People never peg me as the kind of guy who listens to heavy music. Jazz, classical, or hip-hop maybe.
Windows up now, and I’m cruising down the parkway, looking for a garage sale sign at the corner. Instead, I see a sign that says FREE LARGE TV. Well, isn’t that something. I turn into the street. Look left, and I see corridor lush with trees and identical suburban houses. Keep going, up the street. Another sign: FREE LARGE TV, with an arrow indicating for me to turn. I turn down another street with identical track houses, every third house is the same with a different HOA-approved paint job. And then there’s me blasting metal through the quiet neighborhood. On the right, a huge set sits before the curb, black plastic and wood eating up the sun. The TV is mounted on a speaker, and the whole thing is much too big for my room. I’ve got a little media stand, which I’m just now remembering that I forgot to measure. And I’m just now remembering I have no cash. How would it look to try to buy something at a garage sale and ask if they take credit or debit? I could stop by an ATM. Yeah, if I see something I like, I’ll just run to an ATM. My bank is down the road, plus they have ATMs at every local grocery.
I’m on the parkway again. No more signs. Go up past the library, past the fast food shops, past the apartments and townhomes, to the boulevard. There’s a garage sale sign on the right. I turn in, and a few turns later I’m there, but they’re packing up, and there’s nothing there I want anyway. I’m only looking for a very specific item in the most inefficient manner possible. I turn back onto the boulevard, and see what looks like a garage sale sign on the left. When I’m in the turn lane, I see that it’s actually an open house. Crap. Illegally, I cross the white line and drive down the boulevard.
Now I’m well on my way to completing the big circle around my little suburb. I’m really hungry, and there are some shops in here. A Taco Bell, a grocery store. I could really use some chocolate right now. Or anything really. They say to never go grocery shopping when you’re hungry because you’ll end up picking up a ton of junk you don’t need. My good friend says an old friend works at that grocery store now. I briefly consider stopping in to see her, but then again things didn’t end too well between us, and I don’t think it would be good for me. Might end up having to go in there if I need an ATM though.
There’s another garage sale sign on the left. As I turn in, I recall long, hot Saturday mornings “garage sailing” with my mom, buying useless junk and trinkets that would eventually just end up in our own garage sale. I never thought I’d end up doing the same thing. A green garage sale sign on beckons for me to turn right. There’s an address written on it that I don’t catch. Another sign, another turn. It should be coming up any minute now. Nope, no more signs. I’ve driven through the entire neighborhood, but they must have packed up without the decency to take down their signs so that people don’t drive around thinking they’re being led even though their path is aimless.
I’m back on another main road, and here the speed limit is 45 miles per hour. I like to speed, so I usually go 49 miles per hour. No one really cares about that. 23 months ago, I got a speeding ticket, and the judge said that if I didn’t get another one for two years, it would drop from my record. But today, I’m going 54 miles per hour, and I don’t care. I see more signs on the right. This road has a lot of blind curves, and I speed past them. The pull on the car as I turn the wheel provides a slight bit of pleasure. My ears hurt from the blaring music, and I should turn it down, but instead I turn it up even louder. Can’t hear my growling stomach either way. After a few turns, I realize that this too is an destinationless journey. I see it’s almost 5 and remember that garage sales are generally a morning activity. I pull onto another boulevard. Whatever. I still have half an hour to kill.
There are surprisingly few cars on the road. Then again, I’m never usually out this late on a Saturday evening. There’s a garage sale sign on the right, and I turn in, acknowledging that this is probably another dead end, or rather the entrance to an endless maze of identical houses stretching forever and ever in infinite circles. A suburbanite sprawl. A suburban wasteland.
There’s a song called “Your Little Suburbia is in Ruins” that I want to listen to. I never paid attention to the lyrics, but I like the title, and in the music video they destroy a pretty nice dollhouse or something. I think it’s fitting to blast this as I pass by the nice, comfortable houses looking for a deal that doesn’t exist in a garage sale that doesn’t exist. A blonde woman scowls her blonde scowl at me as I pass. I smile at her, a small, devious, bowed-head smile. Your little suburbia is in ruins now.
Now, there’s a golf course ahead of me, and I turn past it. Someone kill me if I ever take up golf.
I’m in the suburb next to my suburb now, and there’s a mall down this street, and that mall has a Best Buy, so I figure I’ll just stop in there to check out the deals. In the parking lot, a man stops in the road for seemingly no reason and blocks my path. I almost get mad and honk him out of instinct, but then I remember I have nowhere in particular to be at the moment.
In the Best Buy are bigger and bigger TVs, stronger and faster computers, and newer and sleeker video game consoles. There is a little display about electronic mood lighting for the house or something like that, and I think no one really needs any of this crap. I walk to the back, and there are hundreds of TVs on the walls and on displays, each bombarding me with commercials detailing why that particular TV is the best one. One has the words PURE HAPPINESS in bold, white letters, but the high definition slow motion video is of a little boy, head back, laughing, swinging on a tire swing in the backyard, experiencing life in the twilight of a summer evening, far away from any possible TV. Is this the pure happiness that a new TV brings, or is the pure happiness actually watching someone else experience pure happiness on a new TV? If you buy this TV, you will experience pure happiness vicariously through this ecstatic child. This child has offered up his life force in service of your entertainment. Accept this humble offering and patronize it with your cash. The cheapest 32 inch TV I see here is $159. I can’t make a decision now though because I don’t know if a 32 inch will fit in my TV stand, plus I haven’t explored all my options.
I leave and go down the street to Wal-Mart. I hate Wal-Mart. Scratch that I have a some love, mostly hate relationship with Wal-Mart. It’s the only store I’ve ever had nightmares about. Whenever I feel trapped in a situation, I have a dream that I’m trapped in a Wal-Mart, and I’m trying to find someone to help me, but because it’s Wal-Mart, there’s no one in sight. Their TVs are worse quality for the same price, and I think maybe I don’t want a new TV after all. Anyway, I can’t spend a long time in here because I have to pick up my sister. On the way out of the store, I see Fourth of July sales material. Napkins, plates, gross looking red, white, and blue cookies, pastries, and muffins. Poisonous. Wal-Mart flavored. America flavored.
Back in my car. It’s 5:23. If I leave now, I’ll be right on time to pick up my sister. Now I remember that I have a car-warmed apple in my lunch bag. I take a bite of the juicy apple and think that maybe this is what I needed to eat all along.