My View

My wife and I ventured out of our comfort zone over the weekend and made a visit to a place we seldom go anymore.

Actually, I was the one in the comfort zone, dozing in my trusty recliner when the announcement was that she was venturing toward “civilization.”

“If you’d rather rake leaves, you’re welcome to,” she told me. Actually, she didn’t tell me that. I made that up. I’m a firm believer that leaf raking and other outdoor chores are causing global warming. I’m not going to get blisters on my hand and be a direct cause of climate change! That’s my story, and I’m sticking with it.

We ended up going to a mall. I don’t know if many of you recall these things, but they are a conglomeration of indoor retail establishments, with some food and other sort of entertainment mixed in. They used to be big “back in the day,” as they say. They aren’t so much anymore. Now there’s a lot of walls where stores used to be, and they seem to be largely used as an indoor walking space.

My wife had a couple destinations, so I set off on a little trek of my own. I recall when my kids were younger, and a mall stop was necessary at least once a month. Everyone would go their separate ways. There were young, hip stores that everyone that age had to have their jeans from. There was a food court where you could get any variety of fast food. There also happened to be one establishment where a fellow like me could quench his thirst, you know, from all that mall walking.

As long as I was back at the main directory at the appointed time, all would be well in the world. After a few visits, my gig was up since there was never any proof that I actually shopped, so I embraced it. They shopped, and they knew where to find me when they were done.

Guess what? That watering hole is gone, I learned the hard way. My mall walk had been pointless. I could have spent a couple bucks and relaxed in one of those massage chairs while my wife scurried about. Instead, I was at the other end of this complex, and I had to make my way back, getting more thirsty by the second.

I went down one hallway and it dead-ended at a closed retail outlet. I went down another some non-profit agencies were utilizing the open space. I came across a place called an escape room. Heck, as far as I was concerned, I was already trapped in one. What have we come to as a society when, for entertainment, people are locking themselves in a room and trying to get out?

My wife found me, and I told her of my harrowing day, and tried to explain this escape room concept to her.

“Pretty soon, people are going to be paying to throw axes at a wall,” I said.

“Do you want to go there next?” she asked. “It’s down the street.”

Maybe next time. I had wasted all energy I had saved up for a Saturday afternoon. Plus, I was real, real parched.

BY JOHN MCLOONE