Image Source: Lonely Planet
“Oh, here we go!” Ray said. “Friggin’ Black Friday again!”
Ray and Clem were looking through the flyers that were spilling out of the New York Times as they sat at their window table at Pete’s Candy Store in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Their band, The Dickweeds, was playing the night after Thanksgiving, and they were killing time after sound check with a few PBRs and some snark.
Clem flipped the Macy’s flyer open and laid it on the table for their mutual perusal.
“I take it you didn’t partake in any Black Friday action?” Clem said.
Ray was distracted scanning the incoming crowd and hoping for adulation, or at least recognition. He turned a sideways glance to the flyer and threw out his best sneer.
“Bah!” Ray said. “No way I’m going in for that shit.”
“It is cheesy,” Clem said. “I guess if you’re in to that kind of thing, you can get some deals, depending on how much the stores mark stuff down after jacking up the regular retails.”
“Yeah, and then I’d be the type of mouth-breather that actually goes to the Garden State Plaza,” Ray said. “I wouldn’t do that at noon on a Saturday, let alone midnight on a Friday.”
With those words Clem connected a pair of dots that had been hovering in his head.
“Woah!” he said. “Didn’t I see that PBR t-shirt you’re wearing on sale for $50 in a Garden State Plaza store window, ya hipster doofus?!?”
“Yeah,” Ray said. “But I didn’t go there myself. I got dragged out with my sister, fachrissakes. “
“Ah, yeah,” Clem said. “That makes a huge difference.”
“Damn straight!” Ray said.
They ordered another round as the beautiful people filled in for the first act on the bill and, eventually, them.