It's so totally like The Mall, and stuff

["Michael McGeachie" <mmcgeach@>]

The bright energy of the prime-time mall wanes and the tide of shoppers
subsides, leaving the hangers-on and dilly-dalliers considering one last
purchase.  The mall kiosk employees scavenge the ripples for a sale.  And
Alyssa P. Hacker is dressed as a slut.  Alyssa, although provocative, is out
of place.  There are plenty of teenage provocateurs, but a woman of Alyssa's
demeanor should know better.  Women her age wear business suits, or slacks
and blouses, or maybe a sensible sweater with a long wool skirt and a
tastefully tasseled belt, Alyssa thought.  They definitely do not wear short
jean skirts with wide sparkling belts, long velvety knee-high boots, noisy
bracelets, dangling earrings, and tanktops with plunging necklines revealing
the edges of pushup bras.  Yes, Alyssa very definitely would not dress like
this.

But the mall is a Halloween place.  A large woman in sweat pants waits by
her bags stacked on the floor.  A bald man in a suit, with his tie undone,
and drooping into his dinner, concentrates on his homestyle chicken,
potatoes, and gravy.  A very old woman sits near the corner of the
foodcourt, alone.  Near that woman, a man in a gray short-sleeve button
shirt sweeps up.  And everywhere sixteen yearolds.  So many sixteen yearolds
wearing so much makeup.  

It has been Alyssa's subconscious desire to fit into the mallscape for a
long time.  As a teenager she would not have been aware of it, just
cognizant of some disconnect between herself and her environment (a signal
she might have lost in the noise of other similar signals, in almost any
environment).  As a college student, she would have known the manner of the
solution, yet avoided it.  But now, nearly 30, perhaps her age is
prophylactic against the unwanted attention a 20 yearold Alyssa would have
attracted, dressed in such a manner.  It is time to test that theory.

The disguise seems to be working.  Alyssa glides down the long tiled halls
of the mall like an invisible presence.  With any luck, she can buy what she
needs and be home again before anyone notices.  

But there, in front of Banana Republic, and blocking her progress, a mime
entertains two small children while their mother watches.  Sure, sometimes
malls have entertainment or promotions or local radio DJs or something, but
mimes?  The mime, not saying anything, of course, blows a big-eared wiener
dog out of a balloon and gives it to one child.  The child's brother is
jealous and wants one too.  The mime opens his pocket, bracing his pocket
with exaggerated fingers of one hand and daintily pulling nothing out of it
with his other hand.  After pretending to stretch an invisible balloon, he
puts his pinched fingers to his painted lips and blows.  He doubles over and
heaves great lungfulls of air into the empty space between his fingers.
Then, wrapping one hand around the other, and again, he mimes tying a
balloon into knots, and triumphantly presents the lack of a balloon to the
child already without one.  The boy seems unimpressed.

In this mall, this place, this construct pregnant with symbolism, is a mime
really necessary too?  I am here in costume already, and of the others here
the same might well be said.  Could I get through one day without allegory?
Alyssa wonders.  The mime, unperturbed by the lackluster review he received
from the child, smiles grandly to himself and stretches his arms above his
head.  Then he mimes the outline of a box, and his hands then find a handle
on the box, which opens it.  The mime ducks down to peek inside the box, and
reaches in, grasping a handle or container.  Withdrawing his hands from the
box, he closes it, then turns his attention to the treasure he's grasped,
defining its contours in the shape of a bottle.  He pulls something
invisible from his pocket, and operates on the neck of the bottle he's held.
His eyes widen and he puts his lips to the circle he makes with his hands,
sipping.  Perhaps he'd opened his beverage too quickly, and was taking
measures against it overflowing.  The mime seems satisfied, Alyssa thought,
and he smiles and stretches like he's relaxing after a long day of work.  He
doesn't pay attention to the two children and their mother.  And shoot!
Having a drink!  That reminds me, GSB is happening!  No time for shopping
now, I'd better get started or I'll miss this week's...


            +-                                                  -+
              girl scout benefit -+-  5:30 pm  -+- 32-G9 lounge
            +-                                                  -+

               For those coming from elsewhere: Building 32 is
                <http://whereis.mit.edu/map-jpg?selection=32>
           Once you are in 32, just take the G-elevator to the 9th
       floor and we will be in the lounge that you will be looking at
                     <http://projects.csail.mit.edu/gsb>





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