Diary of a Day Gone to the Dogs
1:05: We enter to find tidy Clifford displays positioned strategically around the store, and a sign in the children’s section boldly heralding his imminent arrival. We are giddy in the way only a family gathered to see "Clifford the Big Red Dog" can be.
1:06: Tim has a stinky.
1:13: Tim and Theresa return from the car after dealing with the aforementioned stinky problem. We resume giddiness, knowing that the Big Red one himself will arrive in a mere 47 minutes.
1:15: Jackie spots a "Dora the Explorer" doll and immediately forgets about Clifford. Theresa distracts her and I hide it under a chair.
1:23: A bookstore employee appears, handing out numbers so attempts to meet Clifford are orderly. She hands us "2." Theresa and I exchange an ecstatic glance, not unlike one we might have exchanged upon getting front-row Bruce Springsteen tickets, back in the days when we got out of the house for things other than appearances by men in dog suits.
1:30: Jackie has grown weary of Children’s and wants to wander around Political Science. I ask the woman in the children’s section about a book for my nephew, but she is unable to help, her expertise apparently limited to handing out numbers. Tim spits up in Young Adult.
1:39: We are herded into the corner as the crowd begins to grow exponentially. Jackie holds on to her mother, perhaps sensing the desperation in the hearts of the other parents who’ve made the journey and are now pressing toward us in droves, like lemmings toward a cliff. Or maybe she just needs a nap.
1:48: The temperature begins to rise — judging from the rivulets of sweat pouring off my forehead I’d peg it at about 120 degrees. Meanwhile, I’m carrying Tim, who is doing his best impression of a displaced salmon; I give him a pacifier, and pray.
1:50: From our vantage point in the corner, I can now view kids and their parents packed in as far as the eye can see. For the sake of my children, I resist the urge to yell, "WE’RE TRAPPED LIKE RATS! WE NEED AIR! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, AIR!!"
1:55: The bookstore woman takes to the stage and attempts to read a Clifford story. This has about as much effect as reciting Yeats at a Colombian soccer match. She retreats.
1:57: As the loud, sweaty crowd pushes in toward her, Jackie mentions that she does not want to see Clifford the Big Red Dog. We assure her that she is mistaken.
1:58: Jackie makes it clear in no uncertain terms that not only does she not want to see Clifford the Big Red Dog, but it would be in all of our best interests to vacate the store immediately.
1:59: Realizing that Jackie has made a firm decision on this issue, Theresa picks her up and we wade into the crowd, which closes in around us like congealing Jell-O. Tim raises his pacifier in much the same way I imagine MacArthur brandished his pipe upon leaving the Philippines.
2:01: After what seems like an eternity we emerge on the other side and hurry toward the exit, stopping only to purchase our obligatory Clifford merchandise. As we do, I spot the top of a tomato-colored head being pawed by the now-manic mob. It’s not a pretty sight.
2:06: Safely back in the car, Theresa and I make a pledge to never, ever attend such an event again. Unless maybe it’s to see Dora the Explorer.