Red Carpet Evening

Yesterday, after settling into our new apartment in Mysore, we decided to treat ourselves to the luxuries of sheets, dish-soap, and peanut butter. We slathered on some deet-free mosquito repellent, slipped into our Keens and headed for the new super-store in our hood. Little did we know that it was a red-carpet kind of night: the grand opening of the new! western! cheap! quality! Big Bazaar.

Motorcycles and rickshaws lined the street and families wove their way between them heading towards the 4 story high Target/Wal-Mart hybrid. Inside, the store was teeming with activity. Such a grand opening calls for loud music, special deals on "Buckets! Buy one get one ABSOLUTELY FREE!!!! BUCKETS!!!" shouted directly into your eardrum through megaphones, and an actual red carpet.

The Brooklyn Target on a Saturday has NOTHING on this. 3 generations of a bloodline riding up the escalator. Children asking their parents for lunchboxes with characters that could almost pass for Mickey Mouse or Donald Duck. People buying Tupperware, flat-screen TV's, and shitty produce. Women reading about the "fair de-tanning" treatments offered by the salon. NOISE. So much noise everywhere.

After getting swept up in the current and grabbing some other necessities (powdered soy milk--not great, bath puffs--great) we tried to exit. The cluster fuck around the cash registers was comparable to trying to get on a subway at Times Square during rush hour. Lines? What Lines? What do you mean I can't bargain the price of the apple juice down? And the people working there were clearly not prepared to perform their duties with the necessary speed and thoughtfulness required. Example: Instead of using 2 or 3 normal sized bags for our things, they were all placed into a giant bag suitable for, say, a large stuffed animal or infant bathtub.

Finally, we break through the crowd and head towards the exit where a security guard asks to see our receipt. The receipt we were not given. One one side, freedom. On the other, HELL. The guy who checked us out won't vouch for us. The guy who bagged our things points to a customer service desk somewhere on the other side of a sea of overexcited people. For a moment I consider making a break for it and sprinting past the guard, but I'm not sure Katie is on the same page and the bag might be too big to make it through. We're arguing with everyone and no one when suddenly, from the depths of a money belt, the receipt emerges and we are free.

Today..... we returned in search of a sponge and a padlock. There were drummers outside and it was even more crowded. But I guess there is something to be said for convenience.