I’ve told you this before, but it’s worth repeating: I grew
up in the country in the middle of nowhere, and in order to encounter a town of
any kind, you had to travel for at least ten miles. If you were cosmopolitan
enough to want to go to a WalMart or a Target, you’d up your journey to a
minimum of thirty miles.
I lived smack-dab in between two large (or, they seemed
large at the time) cities: Watertown and Brookings. Brookings was about thirty
miles south, and Watertown lay thirty miles north. My mom worked in Brookings,
so that’s where we’d go for things like dental appointments. However, if we
wanted to shop for Christmas presents (or anything else, really), Watertown was
a much better choice. I love Brookings, but Watertown had more shopping options
than Brookings. Unlike Brookings, Watertown had not only a Target, but a fairly
respectable mall.
Oh, that mall.
When I was a kid, the Watertown mall was THE place to be. They
had everything that a rural South Dakotan could ever want, no matter what your
age. The ice cream shop and the arcade were my go-to places when I was young,
and I eventually aged into the super cool mall stores like Maurices and Bath
and Body Works. They even had a Sam Goody (remember those?) and an Osco. Osco
was the weirdest store, and I don’t think I’ve seen another one anywhere else. For
the longest time, there was an ice cream parlor thing right by Herberger’s, and
my mother could usually be convinced to buy me an ice cream cone. (But only
when I was little and cute. The older and crabbier I got, the less likely ice
cream cones became.)
(Fun fact: the ice cream parlor was eventually replaced with
a few massage chairs and a photo booth, which my friend Bob and I made good use
of. Three dollars well spent, my friends.)
In my early Watertown mall days, the place was kind of a
strange amalgamation of stores. (It still is, actually, but the stores have
changed.) You had the three big anchor stores: Herberger’s, JCPenney, and
Kmart. It is all one floor, and the mall itself is basically a slightly curved
line with a few offshoots for exits.
I have great memories of the Watertown mall. In my younger
days, the Watertown mall had everything I thought I’d ever need: they had a
Maurices, a Claire’s, and a Bath and Body Works – all three of which I was
obsessed with at one time or another. Mom would take us to the Watertown mall
for Christmas shopping – and for whatever-else-we-needed shopping, for that
matter: everything from school supplies to birthday presents to my high school
graduation dress could be found at the Watertown mall. It was closer than Sioux
Falls and much more convenient – besides, my mom had a short fuse when it came
to Sioux Falls traffic.
When my friends and I became old enough to drive, the
Watertown mall was our go-to place. After all, we were still scared of the busy
streets of Sioux Falls, and Watertown wasn’t nearly as threatening. My friends
and I would pile in whatever shitty car we happened to be holding the keys to
and head north.
My friend Allison and I frequented the Electric Rainbow,
which sounds like a gay bar but was actually an arcade. (Sad but true story:
it’s been gone for ages.) It was right by JCPenney, and we spent pocketfuls of tokens
on air hockey and skeeball. We would amass huge piles of tickets and waste them
on junky arcade prizes from the grungy glass case up front. However, after one
particularly successful PacMan stint, we left our strings of tickets behind the
video game along with a note saying “it’s your lucky day” or something like
that. The Good Samaritans of the Electric Rainbow, that’s what we were.
Allison’s and my Watertown mall adventures weren’t without
struggles. One Saturday, we had taken her 1989 Chevy station wagon to the
Target in Watertown. Upon returning to the car, we found – much to our dismay –
that the car wouldn’t start. So what were we to do? Continue our day of
shopping, of course. We walked to the mall, where – as luck would have it – we
ran into my mother. (This was before either of us had cell phones, so this was
extraordinarily fortunate.) Mom drove us back to the car, which still wouldn’t
start. It was on to Plan B: Mom drove us to our house, where Allison and I
picked up my car and drove to her house in Arlington. Being the plucky
sixteen-year-olds that we were, we were determined to solve this on our own. We
Googled “how to jump start a car,” and with jumper cables and printed
instructions in hand, we drove back to Watertown – and totally got the car
started on the first try.
Believe it or not, that is not the only misadventure I’ve
had in/around the Watertown mall. My friend Meagan and I went there one
Saturday to buy new clothes for our upcoming trip to the South Dakota State
Fair. (Remember: we were small town girls, so going to the South Dakota State
Fair was a BIG DEAL.) We wandered around the mall, trying on this and that, and
we eventually planted ourselves on a bench to discuss our purchases and our
excitement for our upcoming trip to Huron. (Note: that was the first and last
time I’ve ever been excited to go to Huron.) We managed to completely overlook
the fact that the mall was totally empty – except for us. When we finally
decided to leave, we headed to the exit… only to discover that the door was
locked. We were locked in the mall. Meagan and I roamed around for a solid ten
minutes before we could find a security guard to let us out.
And that’s how I found out that the Watertown mall closes
early on Saturdays.
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