RandomPokesHanging Out at the MallSteve Dennie
I'm at Glenbrook Mall, supposedly the largest mall in Indiana. So big, in fact, that the National Park Service regularly conducts search operations to rescue shoppers who have been lost for a week in, say, the kitchen section upstairs in Ayres and can't find their way out, and may by this time be starved, dehydrated, and far above their credit limit.
I just rounded the corner at Sears. Now I'm accelerating down the staight-away toward the ice skating rink, which happens to be a true factual reality in Glenbrook. Traffic is heavy. I'm stuck behind a man and woman who seem to be either sightseeing, or got zapped by an Alien Cosmic Permanent Slow Motion Ray Gun. I slow down just a few feet behind them, hint hint. Then, seeing my opening, I shift into second gear and speed around them on the left, merging back to the right just before crashing head-on into a family coming from the other direction.
Suddenly, a clip-board carrying woman steps into my path. I screech to a halt.
"How are you today, sir?" she asks real perky-like.
"Real, real busy," I say, trying to scoot around her.
But she's too quick for me. Anticipating my move, she prances left and blocks my way.
"My name is Shelly, and I'm a Market Research Question Asker for a major manufacturer of bathroom shower soapdishes. If you wouldn't mind, and I'm sure you don't, I'd like to borrow a few minutes of your time to ask a few simple questions. As a valued and no doubt highly experienced user of soapdishes, we treasure your opinions."
"How many questions we talking about?"
"Oh, just 73, mostly multiple-choice. Only nine of them are essay questions."
Sure sounds like great fun to me. Suddenly, my eyes light up. I point behind her. "Oh my goodness, that looks like--no, it can't be--but yes, it is, I recognize him from TV. It's, it's...."
As Shelly turns to look, I sneak around her on the other side. Free again.
I weave in and out of slow-moving pedestrians until I encounter a family of five who are strung out side-by-side across the entire lane, blocking all traffic and causing a severe bottle-neck. Regretting that I don't have a horn, I downshift and walk right behind them, engine revving, waiting for a glimpse of daylight. And there it is. A sixth-gradish boy strays a few feet to the left of Mom, and I dart through the space between them, once again in the clear.
Suddenly, a group of teens, some walking backwards and wearing clothes from the Late Bohemian Shredded Punk Metal Madonna collection, emerge from the video arcade on my right. I instinctively swerve to the left to avoid them, and suddenly find myself in the other lane facing oncoming traffic. I sidestep to miss barreling into a thumb-sucking toddler, veer to the left, weave this way and that, clip some woman's big Penney's bag--"Excuse me"--and eventually make it back to the right lane, once again in the general flow of traffic.
Finally, I arrive at my destination. The rest room.
Shopping malls are more crowded than they used to be, mainly because every teenager in Fort Wayne is required by law to spend at least two nights a week in a mall. It's the Law of the Pack. Peer Pressure. Bored teens go where the action is, and today, I guess, it's the mall.
When I was in high school, teens went cruising. Most teens, anyway. I didn't go cruising, because I was a square. But my "in" peers spent the night driving up and down The Main Drag and Being Cool, which requires playing your car stereo loud enough to rattle dishes in neighboring school districts.
I'm sure cruising will make a comeback one of these days. But right now, the "in" thing is to Hang Out At The Mall. Beginning about 30 seconds ago, I have given prolonged contemplation to the question, "Why do teens Hang Out At The Mall?" I have ruled out three answers.
- They don't go to the mall to buy things. Very few teens actually carry packages. It's probably uncool.
- They don't go to create a scene. Teens at the mall seem very well-behaved, at least compared to the typical Latin American election. They aren't loud or disruptive. Mainly, they just stand around Being Cool, as if anyone cares.
- They don't go to meet members of the opposite sex. I could be wrong on this, and having been a teenager for several years myself, I'm doubting this conclusion even as I write; my fingers are protesting, "What? You expect us to type this nonsense and retain our credibility? These are teenagers you're talking about!"
- But for now, I'll stand by that observation. Mostly, it seems, teens run in Girl Packs and Guy Packs, each of which have their own standards for Being Cool, and they don't mix a whole lot. At least not at the mall. But what do I know? I'm thirtysomething.
So why do teens spend so much time at the mall? I see several possibilities:
- They are showing off their clothes and hairdos. I wouldn't doubt that some teens labor in front of the mirror for hours before leaving for the mall, even though probably the only people who notice are adults like me who turn to their spouses and say things like, "Getta load of that silly hair!"
- They are bored stiff. Adults, after all, go to the mall when they're bored, too. The main difference is that adults own credit cards.
- They go for the fellowship.
"Fellowship" is a churchy word, certainly not the type of thing you hear in the school cafeteria. No normal teen would admit, "I Hang Out at Glenbrook for the fellowship." But I think there's probably a lot to it.
School is structured, without much free time to Hang Out and Be Cool. When the last period bell rings, teens scurry to their buses. But they later show up at the mall, where they can spend hours goofing off, talking, roaming, Being Cool, and generally having fun. All without being pushed along by hourly bells or bossy teachers.
Sunday morning at church is a lot like school. There's a set schedule, and when it's done, people go home. They shake the pastor's hand, mutter one of the 73 varieties of "I really enjoyed your sermon," and then head for their cars.
Church people need a place like the mall where they Hang Out together and just have fun. Where they don't have to do anything overtly religious, like pray or read the Bible or hear a warmed-over devotional. Where they don't have to follow a set agenda. Where they can just Be Together.
At my church, the people really seem to enjoy Hanging Out with each other.
Last Friday night, the teens sponsored their second annual Flashback Cafe Car Hop, a fundraiser for church camp. The teens were clad in classic 50s style--bluejeans, white T-shirts, pony tails, bobby socks, pleated skirts, black loafers, dark sunglasses, the whole bit. They ran around taking people's orders and carrying food to the cars--chili dogs, fries, rootbeer, a rootbeer float, and cotton candy.
But the Car Hop turned into more than a clever fundraiser. It became a time for Hanging Out. People roamed from car to car, chatting and just having a good time. More and more cars arrived, but few seemed ready to leave. We were enjoying the fellowship too much. Some people, like Pam and I, stayed for two hours or more.
It was a great night. We didn't do anything "religious" to justify our togetherness. We just Hung Out. I suspect that Jesus, looking down from heaven--or, should I say, standing there with us in the parking lot--was very, very pleased.
In the church, we spend most of our time sitting in rows listening to someone else talk, and our conversation rarely treads beyond, "How was your week?" Many of us are bloated with spiritual information, and don't feel a compelling need for one more Bible lesson. But at the same time, we're starved for good relationships.
Maybe our churches need to schedule more events where the members of Christ's body can just Hang Out with each other and enjoy being the body. Wouldn't that be worthwhile?
Copyright 2005 Steve Dennie |
