Malls: they’re not for me. Dead-eyed, I doom-trudge to the parking pay-point. I wait in line. I feed the machine. It snatches the ticket and swallows it whole, but before it figures out the fee, the elevator chimes. Steel doors part revealing a woman laughing her head off, face a squirm of hilarity. Mirrored walls multiply the mirth. I gape. She couldn’t give a hoot. Then: ping. Time’s up. Doors shut. Show’s over. But I can’t stop grinning. I’m grinning as I pay. The machine is gimme, gimme, grab. There’s a suspenseful pause – and my change comes clattering down. I feel I’ve won the jackpot!
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