I’ll admit it: I love Black Friday. Not for the deals, although they can be quite impressive. In my family, Black Friday is an adventure in retail. After partaking in the typical Thanksgiving dinner, we'll all rest up and set out for Woodbury Commons. This upstate New York destination is, simply put, the mecca of outlet shopping, with a Midnight Madness sale to shame all others. It is an unrivaled people-watching destination, and it is the guaranteed comedy of the night that has compelled my family to return for four years running.
Cars line the surrounding highways and traffic is at a standstill, as my family downs Red Bulls and readies for the insanity to come. We park far from the actual outlets and wait in a huddle for school buses to come retrieve us. The comedy of this event is not lost on us; we pass the wait time by counting the number of people who have come with suitcases to carry their purchases.
Upon our arrival at the site of the outlets, we decide against dividing and conquering — it’s better to witness the shopping fiasco at hand together. Despite the late hour, eager shoppers are out in full force, and it’s hard not to laugh at the absurd lines forming in front of choice stores. According to one security guard’s estimate, the line to get into Gucci is five hours long. Picture the lines at Space Mountain… times 20. Tightly packed lines of people snake around the storefronts of Coach and Juicy Couture and my family enjoys the spectacle as we slink into the rare lineless store. Our purchases are often unexceptional — a bag here, a sweater there — but our bonding over the spectacle of Black Friday is unparalleled.
