I did not actually live in
said small town; we lived in the country about 15 miles away. From where my
parents’ house sits, the nearest McDonalds is 30 miles away. Same goes for shopping
malls, Pizza Huts, and basically all of civilization.
The 30-mile-away mecca is
called Brookings, and it was the go-to location for anything and everything. When
I went to college and told people where I grew up, they often asked what I did
for fun. The answer? I went to Brookings.
Not by myself, of course. We
usually gathered a carload of friends and hit Highway 14 all the way to the big
city. My friends and I took turns driving: we might ride in Meagan’s blue
Taurus one day and in my 1987 Park Avenue the next. During my final two years
of high school, I’d say I went to Brookings at least twice a week. Oh, to have
a disposable income again.
Now, Brookings is no
metropolis. Compared to my hometown of Arlington, though, it’s enormous.
Brookings clocks in at just a shade under 20,000 people, and there are way WAY
more options for entertainment than in Arlington. In Arlington, your only
choices were the bowling alley and the city park. But in Brookings, the
possibilities were endless.
There were a number of places
in Brookings that my friends and I frequented, and I’ll cover them all in due
time. For now, though, I’m going to talk about our number one high school
destination: WalMart.
I know what you’re thinking:
WALMART?! Yes, I know it sounds less than thrilling. But going to WalMart was a
big trip for any of us. When you have to travel 30 miles to get there, it
always seems like a bigger deal than it actually is. Additionally, if you
wanted to go shopping in Arlington, you were limited to the gas station and the
grocery store (and if you came at the right time, the hardware store and
antique shop on main street might be open). Compared to what we had in
Arlington, WalMart seemed like the greatest place on earth.
Sure, we went to WalMart to
kill time. We usually came to Brookings to go to a movie at the Cinema Five,
but there was always a gap of an hour or so to fill. After we ate dinner, what
else was there to do but go to WalMart?
Once in a great while, it was
actually necessary to go to WalMart. Maybe someone needed toothpaste, or
someone’s mom had asked us to pick up some paper towels while we were there.
 |
| You could shop for Calla, as well. |
Most
of the time, though, our trips were purpose-free. That’s when we had the most
fun.
Looking back, I realize how insufferable
the WalMart employees must’ve thought we were. Brookings is still a fairly
small town, and we came into WalMart often enough that the employees were sure
to recognize us. I’m sure they rolled their eyes and figured that as long as we
weren’t shoplifting, they might as well leave us alone.
Back in our high school
WalMart heyday, the only WalMart we had just your regular run-of-the-mill
WalMart. The Super WalMart would open up during my senior year, and we had our
fair share of fun there, but most of our adventures took place in the old
non-super WalMart. One of the fixtures in this old WalMart was an employee
named Terry.
Do you remember the old SNL
skit about Pat?
No one knew if Pat was a man or a woman, and no one ever will.
Terry was Brookings’ very own Pat, complete with the ambiguous name. My friends
and I were borderline obsessed with Terry. Every time we went to WalMart, the
first task was to figure out whether or not Terry was working.
The really strange thing
about Terry was that, depending on the day, Terry could look like either a man
or a woman. Terry had long black hair that he/she always wore in a ponytail:
nothing too unusual about that. However, you’d come in one day and Terry would
be wearing a baggy t-shirt and camo pants (Terry loved camo pants). But you
could come in the very next day, and Terry would be wearing eyeshadow and a
pink sweater. Terry has curled bangs today: what does that mean? But wait,
today it looks like Terry has a mustache. Terry was an enigma.
 |
| See that ponytailed head right behind Bob's ear? THAT'S TERRY! |
We spent the better part of a
year trying to figure Terry out. But suddenly, POOF: Terry was nowhere to be
found. When we hadn’t seen Terry in two weeks, someone (I think it was Bob) got
up the courage to ask one of the WalMart employees what had happened to Terry. Bob
was given the very helpful “Terry doesn’t work here anymore.” We came up with a
few theories of our own: Terry had saved up all of his/her WalMart paychecks
and was finally able to move to California. Terry had joined the military (camo
pants, remember?). Terry had eloped with his/her significant other (named Pat, of course). We never found out,
but we always hoped that Terry was happy.
Our WalMart trips weren’t
based solely on Terry-spotting, though. We invented a whole series of
WalMart-based games, as well. You may be wondering how we enough time on our
hands so that we could actually develop games. Honestly, I have no idea. We
were all getting good grades, we were involved in a ton of extracurricular
activities, and we were hard at work on college applications. I guess we just
knew how to prioritize (or something).
Anyway, it’s not the WalMart
games involved a whole lot of planning. The first game was a scavenger hunt of
sorts. My friends and I would start at the entrance of the store and give each
other ten minutes to meet back by the registers. The goal? Find the goofiest
thing possible. Whoever returned with the silliest item available for purchase
in WalMart won. What did they win? Bragging rights: but bragging rights were
worth a lot in my circle of friends! No matter who won, the items we found
around the store were guaranteed to be fantastic. From decorated toilet seat
lids to tiny potted cacti, WalMart had it all. Every now and again, we’d find
something so hilarious that it begged to be purchased. Bob and I once bought a bizarre
little baby doll and named it Shaneequa Fabio.
 |
| We did really well on the scavenger hunt that day. |
Our best game (and probably
most obnoxious) was called WalMart Hide-and-Seek. It was exactly what it sounds
like. WalMart Hide-and-Seek was different than traditional hide-and-seek in
that you’re a hider and a seeker at the very same time. During WalMart
Hide-and-Seek, you were constantly on the move. You would peek around corners
and scoot quickly across open spaces to avoid being located. If you spotted
someone before they spotted you, you would yell their name, and they would be
caught. You and your prisoner of war would then join forces and continue
scouting for everyone else. In order to win WalMart Hide-and-Seek, you would
have to capture all of your friends. We usually played with four or five
people, so even if it was one person versus the four (a “captain” and three
captured friends), if the lone wolf found the group of four first, the solo
player would win. That’s the thing with WalMart Hide-and-Seek: the tides could
turn without a moment’s notice, and it was adrenaline-fueled harmless fun.
In all our years at WalMart,
not once were we asked to behave ourselves. Maybe we weren’t actually as
disruptive as I remember us being, or maybe we were a good source of
entertainment for the employees. All of our antics were best accomplished with
the store was more or less abandoned, like at 8 o’clock on a Tuesday night. I
can’t imagine that the employees had anything better to do, so maybe they
actually enjoyed our visits. But probably not.
The one and only time an
employee ever got visibly irritated with us was during May 2006. I was home for
the summer after my first year of college, and Bob had graduated from high
school that very day. After the celebrations were over, Bob and I drove to
WalMart for old times’ sake. We were being our same crazy selves: this time, we
spent a good portion of our visit taking pictures in the giant silk flower
section. For some reason, we had a pink watering can shaped like an elephant.
Bob set it down in the flower aisle, and we dipped next door to the vase aisle
in order to create some lovely flower arrangements (that we were actually going
to buy, believe it or not). We were fully intending to come right back for the
pink elephant watering can… when it came flying over the tops of the shelves
and landed at our feet. Bob and I looked at each other, then looked at the
watering can. We slowly stuck our heads around the corner to see who the
culprit was. We saw no one, leading us to believe that WalMart hires ninjas.
When I went to college in
Morris, Minnesota, I was faced with a similar situation: our only option was
Pamida (BLECH), and WalMart was 45 miles away. The city of choice this time was
Alexandria, Minnesota. Alexandria had way more to offer than Brookings did:
after all, Alexandria had a Target. My roommates and I would use our (extremely
rare) free evenings to take trips to Alexandria, and our main destinations
tended to be Perkins and Target. Nevertheless, we did stop by WalMart every now
and again.
 |
| Nobody does $.88 candy like WalMart. |
After I graduated from
college, I spent time in Denver, New Orleans, Minneapolis, and have landed (for
now) in Sioux Falls. They are all much bigger cities than Brookings, and I
didn’t frequent the WalMarts. However, there’s something about that Brookings WalMart
that is ingrained in me. Every time I drive by it, even though I have ready
access to two Super WalMarts in Sioux Falls, I think, “Should I stop? What do I
need? I’m right here, after all.” Old habits die hard.
 |
| We still can't pass up the five dollar movie bin. |
So the Brookings WalMart will
always hold a special place in my heart. But don’t let this post fool you:
there’s much more to Brookings than just the WalMart. Stay tuned for the next
edition of Adventures in Brookings!
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