A few days ago James and I were wandering around the crimson-spotted paradise that is Target, looking for items that we may not need, but must, indeed, purchase, as dictated by the Target-Gods (or, more commonly, 'Tods') that invade and control the consciousness of all shoppers once they have passed through the magically parting doors so clearly marked "IN" (it is a command, you see). I was half seeking a bike-friendly bag for carrying all my newly purchased books to class in, and did not happen to find one hiding within the suspicious looking stripey zip-up hoody that caught mine eye not long after our initial entrance. I decided that, just in case it was super-wily, I had better examine the sweatshirt further in private (which is the name of the Target dressing room). After a full cavity search I discovered that the hoody was not in fact concealing a decent messenger bag, but I figured that while I was concealed it I would ask James for a second opinion. His opinion was that I should buy the shirt. "I'm not used to wearing clothing that fits me all over," I said. After a pause he replied "You should get used to it, because it looks really good." It's true, though, what I said about things fitting me...I have very few items in my wardrobe that are actually my size; most are at least a size (sometimes two, or four) too big for me, or as I like to say, "comfy." Another plus of my purchasing the shirt was that James could also wear it, considering I found it in the Boys' clothing section. With sweatshirt in hand and the Tods twittering delightedly somewhere above us, we strolled along the wide bright aisles, pausing to look at books and movies and all toys that employed the use of Legos (it was imperative to James that we do this, so that he take a mental inventory of all the things he will purchase once he gets his paycheck).
There was a section of brilliantly colored and styled backpacks, but most seemed rather juvenile and I didn't want to go to class with Hannah Montana's beaming face radiating from my back. We were passing the luggage department and noticed that, along with rolling suitcases and duffels large enough to transport bodies in, there were some smaller, rather sleek looking bags that could easily be worn by someone who relies on a bicycle for transportation, such as myself. There among them was the most lovely specimen of messenger bag I had ever seen. The blackest of black exteriors was broken only by a raised and shining red square in the center of the flap. And in the center of that square was a white equilateral cross, a symbol I had seen many times appearing out of and disappearing into the frayed denim pockets of the farm boys I grew up with. "Could it be?" I thought. I checked the tags of the magnificent item before me and discovered that yes, this was the king of messenger bags. This was...The Swiss Army Bag. If the famous knife somehow came to life and then died and was reincarnated as a bag, it would be THIS BAG with no less than 20 different pockets and compartments of all shapes and sizes and a very robust shoulder strap with adjustable pad for comfort and a bottle holder that hides zipped up into the side of the bag until one sees fit to let it out and a TEN YEAR WARRANTY. Now, you know that's gotta be a good bag, a decent bag, a well-made bag, A BAG FIT FOR AN ALI.
And still. Still I was wary of purchasing it for the price of $39.99. James and I were squealling over the thing and trying it on and adjusting all the dohickeys ("I WANT ONE, TOO!" James said and gallavanted down the aisle with it over his shoulder) when I calmly turned my back to it. "What?" he asked, "What's wrong?"
"Well, that's just a lot of money, and I mean, it's not like I can't wait until get my next paycheck...or maybe I could just get one that isn't as nice, you know? It won't last me as long or be as comfortable and awesome looking but it would work..." Meanwhile I'm thinking "C'MON, CONVINCE ME IT'S TOTALLY WORTH IT AND I CAN'T LEAVE HERE WITHOUT IT, DANG IT."
"It's a really nice bag, Ali."
*thoughtful pause consisting of "YES, THAT IS DEFINITELY ENOUGH CONVINCING"*
"You know what, you're right; it's on clearance and it may not even be here whenwe come back and I want it and it's good quality so okay." and I put the shining beacon of book transportation on my own self and felt nearly as satisfied as the Tods did.
Of course by the time we got out of there we had also grabbed a box of 120 Crayola crayons and refills for our G-2 Pilot pens and I'm sure at least a few other items that seemed absolutely imperative to our survival but I can't remember what they were as of now. I'm out of range of the Tods. I am, however, wicked thrilled about my Swiss Army Bag and all it's pockets. I'm still looking for things to put in all of them.
And still. Still I was wary of purchasing it for the price of $39.99. James and I were squealling over the thing and trying it on and adjusting all the dohickeys ("I WANT ONE, TOO!" James said and gallavanted down the aisle with it over his shoulder) when I calmly turned my back to it. "What?" he asked, "What's wrong?"
"Well, that's just a lot of money, and I mean, it's not like I can't wait until get my next paycheck...or maybe I could just get one that isn't as nice, you know? It won't last me as long or be as comfortable and awesome looking but it would work..." Meanwhile I'm thinking "C'MON, CONVINCE ME IT'S TOTALLY WORTH IT AND I CAN'T LEAVE HERE WITHOUT IT, DANG IT."
"It's a really nice bag, Ali."
*thoughtful pause consisting of "YES, THAT IS DEFINITELY ENOUGH CONVINCING"*
"You know what, you're right; it's on clearance and it may not even be here whenwe come back and I want it and it's good quality so okay." and I put the shining beacon of book transportation on my own self and felt nearly as satisfied as the Tods did.
Of course by the time we got out of there we had also grabbed a box of 120 Crayola crayons and refills for our G-2 Pilot pens and I'm sure at least a few other items that seemed absolutely imperative to our survival but I can't remember what they were as of now. I'm out of range of the Tods. I am, however, wicked thrilled about my Swiss Army Bag and all it's pockets. I'm still looking for things to put in all of them.
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