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Last night here was the 80's party, but for all realistic purposes it was
like an early Halloween. Now I know small schools usually lack in the
school spirit department (students don't tend to dress up for theme
parties unless it's pimp and hoes), but last night, frizzy curls, neon
pink lipstick, and leg warmers came out of the woodwork. In all my years
I hadn't seen this much 80's flare since...well, since the slap
bracelets and acid wash jeans of 1989.
Even guys were dazzling in their MC
Hammer pants, tight jogging suits, and hair band leaders.
Disappointingly, there was no team of Miami Vice. White jacket, pink
shirt, tapered jeans complete with the badge necklace...what the hell?
Was Don Johnson not a major 80's idol? There's a crowd of mid-forty Wall
Street types that agree with me.
Anyway, to get from 2K4 to early Madonna
there needed to be some serious shopping involved. So Olia (my
Belarusian roommate), Anilu (my sorority sister from Peru), and myself
piled into the car and headed down to Good Will (note that both these
girls have incredibly thick accents which will come into play later...so
you can just verbally imagine the drama and confusion). We not only
purchased some quality 80's gear, but our friends' Christmas presents as
well. Some people would call it thrift store crap—I call it early
deconstructive American antiques. Is that fringe on that lamp? Why yes
it is. Hand woven and attached with a glue gun. Dates back to early
1975. Very classy indeed.
To finish up our ensembles—which, might I add, I am damn proud of—I was
Jennifer Beals from Flashdance, complete with a water-soaked gray
sweatshirt for sweat. Olia was rock star Barbie and our other roommate
Andrea was Barbie's friend Teresa. And Anilu, who I will refer to as
Peru for the rest of this article, was Helen Hunt from Girls Just
Want to Have Fun. Eventually we had to move on to the mall because
let's face it, no one is going to wear pantyhose from Good Will. So we
headed over to Target and that's pretty much where the natural disaster
began. The weather, not our outfits.
There we are debating whether to purchase pink or green or yellow neon
tights when rain suddenly began barreling onto the metal roof. We
thought nothing of it. It rains in Peru, Belarus, and Chicago all the
time. No big deal. Then over the loud speaker a woman's voice crackled
with panic, but we couldn't make out any words. Suddenly, all of the
Target employees began ushering us to the back of the store as if they
were calming down a potential riot in the men's clothing section.
"Please move to the corner of the store, there is a tornado warning in
effect. You don't have to stay here but if you do you must move to the
back corner of the store away from the highway and electronics section.
10/4 over. Roger, we have confirmation let's move everyone into the
Clearance Section so we can get rid of that Easter overstock already."
That's when I realized maybe our safety wasn't their first priority.
It was evident that our safety was not
Anilu's first priority either. Instead of going to the back of the store
she headed of towards the shoe section. "Umm, Anilu? I think we better
go to the back of the store." "It's not a big deal. In Peru we have
terrorists. I am not scared of tornados." (Like I said before imagine
the accent.) So she deliberated in the shoe aisle for several minutes,
but that didn't keep her Peruvian attention for very long. Meanwhile, I
am freaking out boy band fan style. I always imagined my death would
come to me when I was in my 70's in some Valium-induced coma, not in the
middle of the plus-sized women's section of a Target store in central
Wisconsin. All I could imagine was twisted steel, metal roof collapsing,
babies screaming for their mommy. So I immediately went into survival
mode and remembered what Helen Hunt did in Twister: attached herself to
a drain pipe with a leather belt. I eyed the men's belt section. Good,
now all I need was a drain pipe. But then I realized we lost
Peru...again.
After screaming "Anilu" repeatedly for what seemed like an hour, but was
really 30 seconds, Olia and I spotted her. She was being escorted back
into the safety zone by a Target regulator. "We found this one trying to
head into the make-up section. Keep and eye on her." Then the employee
turned around to try and lasso up an older couple who was straying from
the herd. "Anilu, let's just look at the clothes okay, I'm calling
Andrea right now to find out more about the tornado—omigod are those
sirens?!?!" But she was already gone, heading straight for the Halloween
section. Helen Hunt would not be pleased.
She emerged again with two more Target representatives, but this time she
had a look of triumph on her face. In her hands she held up two
Halloween costumes, children-sized of course, because she's that petite.
A devil costume in one hand and a pirate in the other. "Anilu, I'm
worried that the sirens going off means there's a tornado touching down
somewhere near here." Her response, "Do you like dis one or di pirate? I
don't have the boots for the pirate and I like di devil ear ting. I
can't decide." And by devil ears she meant horns. And by tornado she
thought I meant butterflies. There was a serious language barrier here.
She began to take off again and Olia and I followed. By this time Target
employees were tired of us and the rest of the shoppers jeopardizing our
own safety, so a booming voice screamed at us over the PA to get into
the back of the store. I added miserably, "Because if you don't we're
all going to die from the tornado!!" After that several small children
began crying, and I decided to keep my mouth shut the rest of the
quarantined period. Now I was the devil.
We're walking towards the back for the fifth time when Anilu spotted the
Hello Kitty aisle and tried to take off like a superhero preparing for
flight. Then we convinced her to go try on the costumes in the fitting
room, which were in the back of the store and open for use. We can't go
to the make up section, but we can still try on your clothes. Very
logical indeed.
So we reached the fitting room, only to
discover that was where all the mommies had set up camp with their
strollers and crashed on the floor. Olia and I sat down next to an older
lady and waited for Anilu to try on her selected costumes.
She chatted with us, told me not to
worry, and then told us that she was in a sorority too, but ran away
with her boyfriend and got married after three months. They've been
married for forty-two years. Then she asked the two of us if we had
boyfriends and we replied, "No, we've been single for forty-two months."
That moment was right around the time Anilu got hungry and opened up a
can of Pringles she had snatched right before she was escorted out of
the make up section. So there we sat, munching on chips with our new
friend, examining romances past and present in our moment of casual
impending doom. So much for my drain pipe attachment plan. Sour cream
and onion never tasted so good...especially when it might be your last
meal.
Eventually the sirens turned off, and everyone was told they could leave.
Anilu raced to the checkout counter and was first in line to buy her
items. Peruvians run pretty fast, let me tell you. All this for
legwarmers and neon tights. I've never felt so 80's in my life. After
that it was goodbye Helen Hunt Twister, hello Helen Hunt Girls
Just Want To Have Fun.
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