I miss malls. I miss the dynamic nature of them. I miss exploring them. I miss seeing all the things that people could buy. I miss the atmosphere. I miss the fountain you throw your pennies in. I miss meeting so many different people. I miss the escalators. I miss the joy of going into the mall pet shop and seeing the animals warm up to you. I miss sitting at the food courts, eating my weirdly quality pizza and taking in the ambiance. Hell, I miss getting lost in malls.
One of the things that feels like a stab in the heart as an aspiring parent is I will never be able to take my kids to the mall and have them experience the same experience. I look at malls now and want to cry. Look at me, a commie crying over a pillar of capitalism. That’s how much of a friend malls were to me, yet nobody I know will say they relate.
In 2003, there was a massive power outage over a big chunk of the midwest. Power was out for about three days. My entire city just kinda… shut down and took a break.
It wasn’t all great–a few elderly folks even died of heat stroke (it was hot, in the middle of summer if I remember right). But there were some positives: the city functioned as a community in a way I’ve never experienced before or since. It felt like we were all on a broken elevator together–a sudden sense of camaraderie in the face of a shared experience.
Most businesses couldn’t function, so everyone was pretty much outside in the parks and at the waterfront, and everyone seemed pretty welcoming to everyone else (they kinda had to be, there were a lot of people out). My dad had a portable generator, so we went around town taking turns at friends’ houses to run their fridges and freezers for a while, and got to just spend time with them.
I don’t expect that the world could function like that all the time, but it was kinda nice for a few days.
This reminds me of my experience with COVID lockdown. Obviously, a pandemic and the vulnerable being sick and losing over a million American lives (and much more globally) was horrible. But for a short time, it was incredible to see the amount of people just visiting parks in the middle of the day and enjoying the warm spring that year. Getting outside to nature was a way a lot of people coped with the isolation and it was beautiful in a way. Moms and grandmas were sewing cloth masks, distilleries switched to making hand sanitizer, people in my area began using local businesses more. There was a definite sense of community, even if it happened through FaceTime calls and social distancing. There are always silver linings to tragedy, I guess.
Yeah, you tend to see the best of humanity during a shared struggle (and sometimes the worst too, but seems more often the better).
I wish it could happen repeatedly though. Like, once a month eg.
Let’s bring more chaos to this process! At some random time during the month, the power grid will just automatically turn off. No warning. Just instant lights out.
Its duration will be determined by a log-normal distribution or similar. So the average duration will be 24 hours with a long thin tail going towards longer durations. There will be a very small chance power is out for the whole month. There will be an even smaller chance power will be out for a whole year. Also, the duration will not be announced at the start of the outage. You’ll just have to sit there in the dark for who knows how long.
All home power generators will also have to be hooked up to this control system. Any home with active power during a deliberate grid blackout will be bombed by automatic drone.
You just perfectly described “load shedding”. If you want to live your dream the good news is you could head to somewhere like South Africa right now. If you wanted to sprinkle in some drone strikes there’s also lots of other countries you could get a holiday home in to experience them too.
At some random time during the month, the power grid will just automatically turn off. No warning. Just instant lights out.
Yes like a fire drill
I’m sorry friend; I still feel that childhood demiurge of “the game”.
I got teary eyed this morning playing a particularly satisfying VR title.
I guess my advice is: Try virtual reality gaming.
When I lived in Taipei, Taiwan, there was a military exercise in that area with civilian curfew for a whole day. Finally the constant traffic roar went silent and I could keep my windows open and listen to birds and insects. A pleasant curfew.
Forest floor dirt after a rain…smells so earthy and good
I completely relate. Grew up in the mall, and worked there in my teens. Was just visiting home and it’s completely dead. There were literally 4 stores open.
Mad me sad.
I just moved north to Minnesota and the cold winters have somehow kept malls alive. Nowhere near the mall culture of previous decades but maybe worth a trip North sometime, if you miss it
Yes! I’ve been to THE mall there. I had a layover in Minneapolis one time, so we stashed our bags and took the train. It was pretty amazing.
Luckily I live in a an area where there are a few decent malls still for me to get my fix.
The smell of pine tree resin in summer. Mixed with the salty coast winds gusts, and the rusting iron of the train tracks. My childhood in a nutshell
I want to eat a Minecraft bucket of lava
Being in a basement, on a couch, playing Sonic Mega Collection on a CRT TV while also being able to pause and switch from AVI to DVR using the button on the TV to catch my favorite cartoons.
I spent a lot of time playing that game growing up, but I’d say doin what I described above was pretty peak for me back then, before middle or high school (couldn’t tell you which grade, though). Probably summer, not much to do, could switch between Sonic 3D Blast and what I think was a marathon on Cartoon Network, back when I used to be so much more into the pokemon anime, during the diamond and pearl era. I do remember a single fragment of an episode, with that aura guy with the blue hat and cape and his lucario.
It was a pillar of capitalism that fortunately allowed for all of the positive sides of commerce… Mainly community to physically engage with. Tangible unique experiences.
Now we stare at a screen and type into a void hoping somebody listens.
KFC Little Bucket Parfait…
