Travel at the Most Terrifying Time of the Year

I am trying to get ready for the trip to Slovakia.

The most terrifying part of travel is not what you would expect. It’s not the unknown adventure–that’s what I’m going for. It’s not the flight, even though I have my occasional panic moments when I do fly (as you can read about here). It’s not the long flight alone, I flew to Japan by myself and that was much longer.

It’s not even the packing, although this time the  challenge is how to pack lightly while still packing for warmth.

No my friends, the most terrifying part of the trip is . . .

THE MALL!!! (Not this mall, but any image will do).

Yes folks, the most terrifying part of this trip is the fact that I had to go to the mall. I know, I chose to go at the worst possible time (the week before Christmas) but I didn’t get my packing specifics until last week, and I want to be sure I have everything before the last minute. Plus, there are still good sales out there.

But . . . for me, the mall at any time of year is terrifying. I am bad at shopping for myself . I can’t stand trying things on in mirrors that emphasize every disgusting part of your body. I hate finding something that I think will be perfect, only to discover that when I put it on I look like a walrus stuffed into some children’s stockings.

But, brave the mall I did. I first suspected this was a bad choice when I had to play parking lot shark in order to find any parking anywhere.

Luckily that didn’t take long.

My plan was to go to only one store in the mall, with a specific mission in mind, but that was enough. As soon as I walked in and became overwhelmed by the cloying sweetness of competing perfume and the signs everywhere advertising a Special One Day Sale! I knew I was doomed.

I wandered aimlessly through the stacks, seeing clothes I’d love to have but realizing that none of them would fit. Pants, I said to myself, I need some pants, maybe a sweater, and some underwear.  Stay focused.

Of course, the pants and sweater that caught my eye first were made for normal sized people. Now, before you get upset that I’m insulting myself, I’m not talking about weight here. I am 5 ft. tall. Any pants in the regular section require either major cutting or lots of cuffing. And the sweaters were meant to be long, but on me (to get a size that would fit) they would hang below my  knees.

Of course, when you get to the land of  petites (Where oh where are the petites in this jungle of  stimulation?) then you have to deal with the fact that, in the warped minds of whoever designs clothes nobody could be short as well as a larger size. I’ve got curves people. Yes, I’m overweight, but even without the extra weight, I’VE GOT CURVES!!!

Finally, I made my way through the jungle, and found the petite section. I picked up a couple of things that would do, even though I still hated every moment of trying them on. I only managed to snag one of the deals (figures). Then I headed upstairs to buy some underwear . . . more trauma as this was not my usual store, so I had no clue what would be comfortable.

The stress, the music, the smells, the women talking loudly about buying more for themselves then others, the salespeople trying to help clueless men buy the perfect gift for their wives  . . . it all became so overwhelming that I just grabbed something and ran.

The worst part is, I still need a few things for my trip.

Slovakia will be great, if I survive to get on the plane. Perhaps the only way to do it is with a song (apologies to Andy Williams):

It’s the most terrifying time of the year
With the car horns yelling
And everyone telling you “Buy this thing here”
It’s the most terrifying time of the year
It’s the grump-grumpiest season of all
With those holiday greetings and smelly infusions
When you walk in the mall
It’s the grump-grumpiest season of all

Wish me luck!