There are only two things occupying the muscle between my ears at the moment; Christmas shopping and Star Wars.
Yes, yes, I hear many females suggesting that’s double the subject matter capacity of the minds of many men.
So, with myself apparently falling into a rather select group, let’s observe the latter, Star Wars, which will either have the hairs on the back of you neck standing to attention with only two more sleeps to go before episode VII is released, or will make your eyes roll in despair.
Thankfully, I’ve been a Star Wars die-hard ever since my mother used to roll the tape of episode IV on the old VCR every schoolday to entice my younger brother and I out of bed in the morning — for three years!
It’s not surprising then that, if you named the scene of the original episode, there’s a pretty good chance I can tell you what they said and how they said it.
And, suffice to say, I have in my wallet a trio of prized, advance tickets for this Friday’s long-awaited release of The Force Awakens.
The frenzy that is Star Wars’ global domination of every water cooler conversation, and every product known to our species it would seem, leads me effortlessly into Christmas shopping, which is where the path of least resistance comes clattering to an unfortunate and painful demise.
Shopping during the alleged season of goodwill is nothing short of a fate worse than death.
Unless, of course, you enjoy getting elbowed in the ribs and breathed on by someone who should really invest in a packet of Excel — Winterfresh — but seems more focused on beating me into the 12-deep, snaking checkout line to save herself 47 seconds at the business end of an excruciating 20-minutes.
Really?
You’ll notice I said “herself;” clearly she had only ONE thing on her mind (see second paragraph). All to save five bucks on an item that you just know was never that ticket price in its life.
Unless it’s a Star Wars item, however. They’re worth every cent, even the candy canes I unashamedly failed to walk past in the dollar store, which were Star Wars by virtue of the clear, decaled wrapping and nothing else.
Then there’s the icing on the Christmas shopping cake — the dying art of holding the door open for the next person coming in/going out.
Holding said door is weird when you think about it. I mean, why bother, it takes minimal effort for the vast majority of the population, right?
Despite a lifetime of awkwardness, I hold the door every time, though, including this past weekend.
And, as usual, it led to some mindbendingly anti-social moments; such as a couple of heart-warming few seconds when the person I’ve held the door open for blasted right past without even acknowledging my presence. Like, sure, I’m your servant, your majesty.
And of course there was the requisite cringe trickling down the spine when I jumped the gun and noticed, too late as it happens, that the person I extended the social grace to was further away than anticipated and I forced them into an uncomfortable trot to accept the gesture. One Huffington Post blogger, while examining this tradition, aptly named the moment “premature e-hold-ulation.”
To avoid said scenario, much flimsy, ill-informed and non-scientific research has been carried out to ascertain at what distance the person behind you needs to be for you to extend the courtesy. Fourteen feet seems to be the average.
I tested it out in the office — it takes three seconds — and it really depends what kind of stride pattern you have.
I’m a six foot-tall male in flat shoes and 14 feet was spot on for me to negate the need to break into a gallop.
I’d definitely re-calibrate down the scale, though, if your intended target was a four-feet-nothing great grandmother with a walking frame, limp and shortbread-laden backpack.
Which takes me back to Star Wars.
Wouldn’t it be great if you could tap into “The Force” to hold the door open?
And one wonders if Darth Vader ever had to hold the door open for anyone? The doors were always open for him as he marched ominously through the Death Star — apart from the scene when Luke Skywalker blasted one entrance shut to give the Millennium Falcon time to escape, seconds after Ben Kenobi was struck down to be made “more powerful than you can possibly imagine.”
Although, if big Darth was the one coming behind you out of Lansdowne Shopping Centre, would you allow him more than 14 feet?
Alan Campbell is a reporter with the Richmond News. Email him at [email protected].
