Where the apocalypse begins
Stir-crazy, but not yet well enough to actually do anything of value, I escaped my apartment today to return a couple of things that hadn’t made the trip to Burning Man (I like to think of it as reverse-shopping…). This included returning a top to Wal-Mart, which I make a point to almost never go into.
I have this advice for everyone: If you are sick, the place to spend your time is not a Wal-Mart on a Saturday. Between the screaming kids, stressed-out adults, ridiculous quantities of underpriced and overprocessed food, and the pervasive smell of plastic and eau d’bad mood, it was all I could do not to run screaming from the place before I’d completed my errand. Although I did have the evil thought that, by spreading whatever virus I have, I could be a subversive agent for bringing down The Man.