Paula's Wal-Mart Essay-Please Comment

Wal-Mart: The Family Store

While observing an array of people entering and leaving Wal-Mart, I found that America can truly be called a melting pot. This community of Wal-Mart shoppers did not seem to share any visible similarities; there was no specific dress code, no proper etiquette, and no particular ethnicity. The products sold there are just as diverse. There are flat screen televisions, the latest video games and other electronics, a technological candy store. However, there is also the garden center, which allows you to become one with nature in a sort of commercialized way.

As I sat on the blue wire bench with Elizabeth, I began to realize that she and I made up a sort of subculture within the Wal-Mart community. We are women, women observing things that women notice: cute little children, different hairstyles, and fashion mishaps. Soon we came together with the rest of the class. As we made our way toward the section where the condoms were kept, I noticed all types of Easter novelties, chocolate confections, Easter basket, and giant stuffed rabbits to tempt children as they saw them.
This was all evidence of Wal-Mart’s way of capitalizing on the Easter season. What would Jesus do?

As we approached the isle where the condoms were kept, our class became Condoms and Such 101; likewise there seemed to be about 101 different types of lubricants, massage oils, and condoms varying in color, texture, and even size. Nostalgia made me flashback to a mental scene where a guy I hadn’t seen in years stood behind me in the checkout line and nudged the arch of my back with the corner edge of the small box that he was holding.
“Hey Miss Thang, What are you doing here?”

“Ummmmm, Shopping!”

“Oh”

“Good seeing ya”

As I walked off, I caught a glimpse of what it was he used to poke me with. It was a box of MAGNUM condoms. As I turned quickly, I could not help but think if what the girls said about him in high school was true. After telling Ariel a version of my insignificant memory, we move along. Passing customers, staring strangely, reminded me that we were committing a social offense. We were shamelessly conversing about thong pantiliners and Aaron’s seemingly expert opinions on the best lubricants to use.
We move along coming around to the Pharmacy area where some of us take our blood pressure. As usual, I share a statistical fact pertaining the Blacks and its particular relationship to blood pressure and heart disease. I take the test and my blood pressure is normal. I do not fit into the statistical category of those you are threating to have heart disease. Surprisingly, Eric’s test tells a different story. Maybe it’s just all the excitement of Wal-Mart, maybe those machines are not always that accurate. Eric did not seem to be worried, so I decided to follow suit.

Dr.Alford approached us letting us know that class was officially over. Thank God, it’s Friday. Wal-Mart was not half as bad as I thought it was going to be. As Eric, Kennon, and I walked toward the door, I reached into my purse fumbling to find my keys and out popped a light blue tampon, Exposed. Where in the hell did that come from? And was the wrapper? Any other situation, with anybody else I would have been devastated. But it was only Kennon and Eric; besides they were part of my fictive kin, family, part of my Creative Nonfiction Writing class. They knew things that most people will never know about me. It’s funny how time, places, people, and sharing little bits and pieces of intimate events in your life can make you feel so close to others.