Is there a more American way to celebrate the holiday season than to pass out at WalMart?
One minute I'm comparing the size of rawhide bones to the relative jaw size of the various pups on our Christmas list, the next a volunteer fireman is telling people to back up and give me some air.
For a brief moment things were a little hazy. I wasn't quite sure where I was, but was pretty sure they aren't going to be rolling back prices in the hereafter.
The trajectory from woozy to humiliated to angry was pretty quick. The folks at the store were very nice. I am mad at me.
As much as I love my family, I've always enjoyed doing things on my own. When mobilizing a team for hurricane coverage, I once overheard an editor say they could drop me anyplace on the planet with a cellphone, a credit card and a notebook. I considered it the highest of compliments. I love new places, particularly cities where one can walk for miles.
If I can't handle going from aisle-to-aisle in a discount store,I'm sunk. This week should bring some answers. I'm anxious to move my medical mystery into the solution stage.
Despite their day after Thanksgiving one day sales of $1.5 billion, Wal-Mart stores rarely advertise in local newspapers. Their big box stores also eliminate dozens of local businesses in every market knocking out many long time advertisers. Wal-Mart is great for cheap toiletries, but lousy for hometown newspapers.
Maybe today's spell had nothing to do neurology. Perhaps it was simply that rare journalistic malady -- an attack of conscientious.