The other day I was shopping at the local Barnes and Noble in the nooner. I imagine many of my SAHM peeps have also taken the early-afternoon chain-bookstore field trip. There are always toys in the children's book area and coffee for the Momz and the place is big enough to feel okay about a temper-tantrum ridden child doing the worm in his stroller.
On this particular day the store was full of Moms and their kids. Double strollers. Triple strollers. Baby Bjorns on fronts, backpacks on backs, slings on sides. It was the local daycare center. Nannies. Parents. Grandparents. Chaos. I suppose it does seem like the ideal time for escalator maintenance, and B&N sure thought so as well. But what is more chaotic than a Barnes & Noble mid-afternoon with out-of-order escalators? Ha! How about a chaotic Barnes & Noble mid-afternoon with out-of-order escalators and a bomb scare?
The lights started flashing and the siren started swirling and strollers started circling nervously and babies started screaming, except Archer was was oddly calmed by it all. The local B & N is a three story behemoth where the Fiction/Coffee bar/Children's books/Playland are all on the third floor so duh! So were we, our entourage of diapered darlings in tow.
A very neurotic manager was having a hizzy for shizzy, running around with her walky-talky, shouting, "head for the stairs! quick! drop your books! Everybody out of here, NOWWWWW!"
Some of us were nervous but most of us were unfazed and annoyed. I had a stack full of books I had to leave on the floor which bothered me. I was also bothered that the manager was pushing me toward the door with her sweaty fingers. Cooties.
"And no elevators, people. This is a bomb scare. We do not know where the bomb is!"
"Pardon me, but isn's the stairwell the most convenient place to stash a bomb in the store?" I said.
"JUST GET OUT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!"
So two by two/three by three/four by four, dozens of stroller-pushing people and their young slowly made their way(s) down three flights of stairs. It was the most terrible thing I have ever seen. Kids tripping, strollers dragging, parents screaming at toddlers fighting. Ah! We were in hell, people. Hell. When we finally made our way out of the store, fire fighters were waiting outside which annoyed me even more. Uh.... Shouldn't you be in the store? Shouldn't you be helping the GGC's down the stairs with your bulging Beverly Hills Fire Dept biceps?
Not so much? Alrighty then.
The Manager swung open the door, proclaiming, "Everybody's out!" The poor woman was sweating, and staggering a la Woody Allen; of the overweight, female persuasion.
We stood around like a bunch of goons, muttering to ourselves while the Fire Department swept the place in full-uniform. Minutes later they appeared unscathed. "It is safe for the people," they said.
So we all raced back inside, pushing our way toward the elevator, stroller-derby style. I was quick but not quick enough. The line for the elevator was already 10 people long. At this point I was so annoyed I just left the friggin mall and headed to the nearest Independent Bookstore because COME ON, DUDE. I got shit to do up in this piece.