Agoraphobia

Black Friday. In the wee hours of the morning after Thanksgiving day, throngs, hoards and mobs of people storm the doors of big box stores all over America. Today at a Walmart in Long Island, these "shoppers" trampled a worker TO DEATH. Read the article here and be prepared to be utterly disgusted with humanity. At least that's how I feel.

It brings to mind the scenario at the GNFC Shangrila Cafe (pronounced "caff"). The caff opened a couple times a week and was the only place to spend our GNFC issued pocket money. The currency was bright pink chits that translated one to one, and we got like ten rupees every couple of weeks. So, being useless anywhere else in Mussoorie, every fuschia-fisted student eagerly awaited the caff's occasional opening. It was situated on the rear slope of the dining hall, had a large terrace and a tiny, ten foot by eight foot room with the store counter that was manned by just one person, usually one of the food servers.

If the worker showed up on time and you got in and out before the throngs showed up you were not only smart, you were lucky. If you could break-in during off hours you were even more cunning and deserving of the treats inside. But, usually they opened about an hour late, and the waiting crowd would just grow and grow. Then when it finally opened it was a football riot. Little girls trampled, pushed, shoved, shouted, sweated, cried, and sweared just to spend their meager pocket money on a soda or some chips. "Sir! Sir! Sir! Sir!"

Memories of the caff are some of most frightening and dreadful ones while at Shangrila. Here we were - malnourished and underfed - being reduced to a greedy mob of rats willing to hurt one another for the chance at some shitty junk food. It was useless, but it didn't matter - once you were half-way up to the front, there was no going back, especially because you were stuck. You just had to ride the waves of the pulsing mob.