Inner Geek
During the fall, I like to visit department stores and places like Target to get ideas for buying toys for the kids at Christmas. I may not be buying right at that time, but it is good reconnaissance when dealing with what a child has on his Santa list. Later, I come back, armed with cash and a more willing demeanor and I make my purchases quickly, almost stealthily, because…as you all know…I hate being in stores. Recently, I was in one such store and I was attempting to find where the Lego toys were located. It is a good bit of intelligence to gather since my boy is absolutely crazy about them. I asked for some assistance and some acne ridden kid behind the electronics counter pointed in a direction and flatly told me “aisle 38F” and I was on my merry way.
I keep hearing about how this economy is killing sales in stores; making some of the older and more vulnerable places go out of business. On that day, I didn’t see anything of the sort. The place was packed with moronic shoppers buying whatever it is they buy in the middle of October. Pumpkin cups and napkins. And they were buying lots.
Owing to the large amounts of human obstacles that I was confronted with, I made it to aisle 38F in a few minutes and glanced around the corner to see what kind of Lego stuff they had. I don’t know about you, but I love Lego toys. I’m not just one of the nerdy “Star Wars” or “Harry Potter” types of Lego lover, I go beyond that and love ALL Lego sets equally. You just won’t hear me talking about it loudly to my peers.
The Lego counter was packed with goodies. The new sets had been released in anticipation of the busy holiday season that was fast approaching and I gazed in wide wonder at all the magic that was before me. But something was wrong. Something sinister disturbed my Lego daydream.
Smack dab in the middle of the floor (in front of the new Lego Star Destroyer set) was a guy about twenty five years old…and he was sitting on the floor, almost lying down in a full prone position. Odd, I thought to myself, well he wasn’t hurt or anything, he was just gazing at a Lego set, cradled in his arms as if it were a foundling waif. I approached cautiously, hoping that the guy would realize that somebody else was near and he would straighten up and realize what kind of idiot he appeared to be. Boy was I wrong.
I had misjudged this geek. He took my approach as an invitation to start talking to me. He went on and on about which Star Wars characters were in which sets, for all the world thinking that I was paying attention to him. I gave a nervous glance around, trying to see if I was being punked or on some hidden camera designed to catch me with my pants down. No such luck. Maybe this guy was unstable? He looked normal enough, and my suspicions were soon answered when I finally gave this guy a full once over. He was a nerd.
Ha Ha! You’re just feeding into the stereotype; you shouldn’t generalize people that way…blah blah blah. I am sticking by my initial and thorough assessment of him. This guy was as nerdy as they come and his apparent fetish was Lego Star Wars characters.
“The Death Star Collector’s set has 24 actual storm trooper guards in it!” he said breathlessly to me, and I again had to look over my shoulder, this had to be a set up. Nobody around at all…
I kept doing what I came to the aisle 38F to do; I took a good look at the sets and gauged their prices against what I was willing to spend on the things. I also overtly and almost loudly ignored this guy. Perhaps my plain uncaring attitude and unconcealed contempt for him would finally pound the fact home that I didn’t care what he had to say. He didn’t seem to notice and he kept right on talking.
There was nothing else to do. I carefully backed my cart away from his still prone form and out of aisle 38F. I realized that if I had allowed myself any more time in the aisle, I would have probably ended up taking a large box of Lego and bringing it down squarely on his head. He was that annoying. Again, he didn’t notice or care that I was leaving.
Now that I was out of that situation, I moved to the next aisle over, which I assume was 39F, but I can’t be sure. Now 39F is the “Pink Aisle.” If you are a female, or have little girls for children, you know what the Pink Aisle is. It’s the aisle in most stores where all the Barbie dolls, My Little Pony dolls, and the Bratz dolls (more on this insidious phenomenon later) are. Everything is pink, all the boxes, wrappers, and toys themselves are pink, thus the name “Pink Aisle.” It also has a punny connotation to it; most guys think the aisle is an eyesore; Pink Aisle…pink eye. Get it?
Now I am not one of those guys. I take an active interest in what kinds of toys my kids play with and that includes what my daughter likes. If I don’t pay attention, I run the risk of purchasing something stupid and earning the righteous indignation that would be leveled against me for being an old fart of a father. Also, I like my kids, so I tend to play with them when they have their junk out. I am comfortable in the Pink Aisle and I began perusing the many different types of toys there in an effort to see “what is hot this holiday season.”
Okay, here is a good make up set for an eleven year old…hmm; that Disney Barbie doll would look good in her collection, hey the Webkinz have come down a lot in price…I am busy thinking all these things while I am looking. Like I said, I like my kids…
Through the thin pegboard and shelving of the aisle, I can still hear what is going on in over in aisle 38F. That guy hasn’t stopped talking, and from what I can tell, he has either scared off anybody else who would enter the aisle, or he is still alone. Whatever is going on over there, he is still talking to nobody in particular. I think I actually put my forehead in the palm of my hand and muttered a “Jesus” to myself. This guy was truly sad. It almost made me cringe to think of how lonely and boring his life must be that he should sit on the floor of a department store and discuss to nobody what kind of Lego pieces were in a set.
Everybody is a nerd and a geek about something. Yes, we may not look like the traditional mold of what society thinks a geek looks like; tape on the glasses and pocket protectors, arguing about Linux versus Windows and sipping Kool-Aid out of a Chronicles of Riddick stadium cup. But we are all sad and lonely at times and maybe we even talk to ourselves about it. We all go kooky over some thing, be it baseball cards, comic books, cosplay, Barbie dolls, or whatever. Maybe we even feel the need to share about our kooky collections from time to time. The difference is that most of us chose to restrain our inner geek. Most of us just don’t feel comfortable having high water pants on while discussing what happened to G.I. Joe on page twenty-two of last year’s anniversary special issue to complete strangers much less friends. So I guess being a nerd is okay as long as you can handle the empowerment of it. That man in aisle 38F, talking to whoever would listen about the new Han Solo Lego character, despite how I felt about him and his “problem” was an empowered individual. He was liberated enough to just open up and share his happiness and his excitement about things that made him feel good. He was reaching out from that pit of loneliness we all feel from time to time. Who was I to look down on him with scorn?
Oh yeah, I was the guy standing up in the aisle, acting normal.
