“We’re here!” John Henson announced, parking the car in one of the parking lot’s plentiful spaces.
Giannis Antetokounmpo unfolded his long legs from the footwell and stepped out into the bracing autumn air. The sheer size of the mall was amazing to him; malls in Greece were a lot more conservatively designed, at least the ones he went to. He didn’t get to go to the fancy new ones.
“Man, this place biiiig! Where the front door on this thing?”
John laughed and pointed to a set of doors far in the distance, and they set out. After tromping across hundreds of feet of pavement, they finally reached the entrance. The magnitude of the American consumerism machine was not news to Giannis, but he was still awestruck by the absolute opulence of it all. “So, where we go first?”
Smiling, John turned the question back on its asker. “Wherever you want, dude. If you need an idea, though, there’s a shoe store down at the other end that would love to see two NBA players walk in…”
Giannis didn’t understand. Why would you go to the mall without a purpose in mind? He expressed his disbelief to his friend. “It not my idea to go to the mall. I thought you need something, so that’s why we go.”
John laughed again. He always seemed to be laughing. “You mean that in Greece you don’t just go hang out at the mall? It’s like a teenager’s rite of passage over here, to just walk around and not buy anything!”
“I never had any money for the mall,” Giannis said sheepishly. Then he perked up. “But I have money now, so it is cool that I am here now with my good friend John, even if he doesn’t know which store he want to go.”
Scratching his chin, John pondered the question. “I need a new watch,” he said finally, as if he had no other material needs in his life. “Let’s check out the jewelry store and maybe you’ll see one you like.”
Giannis shook his head. “Too expensive. My phone tells me the time! But, I help you pick one out.”
The two of them walked leisurely down the esplanade. However, when they got to the jewelry store, the security grate had been lowered and all the lights were off, in defiance of the store’s posted operating hours. When Giannis peered in, he saw a clump of polo-shirted employees duck behind counters and scurry into back storerooms.
John shrugged, but disappointment was clearly evident on his usually joyful face. “This always happens when I try to look at watches,” he sighed.
Giannis hated to see his friend so sad. “We go to clothes store instead and try on fancy suits,” he suggested, trying to cheer John up. “Maybe after we eat burritos in food court.”
—
High spirits having returned, John ribbed Giannis for his purchase at the clothing store. “You look like a hipster. I’m telling you right now.”
Giannis rolled the fringed end of his new pink scarf between his fingers. “It is good to be hip I think. And it help keep my neck warm for when I go outside.”
“Then put it back in the bag and wait until we leave before you put it back on. I’m embarrassed to be seen with that thing near me,” John responded, jokingly pulling his hood over his head as if trying to avoid the stares of passersby.
Ignoring his friend’s jibes, Giannis pointed ahead. “Hey, the food court already! I think I see sign for Chipotle. I’m buying.”
“You sure know how to get on my good side, dude,” John said. “I hope your wallet can withstand four burritos with extra guac.”
Giannis laughed as they got in line. “So that how you stay skinny! You need start diet tip blog or something.” He placed his own, smaller, order and, after wincing slightly at the cost of all the food, found a relatively clean table.
As Giannis took his time with his burrito, savoring each bite and taking care not to get any morsels of food in his new accessory, John scarfed his burritos down with the gusto of a starving man. “Damn. I love Chipotle! When we’re done here, we gotta hit up the smoothie stand,” John mumbled through mouthfuls of carnitas and pinto beans. “My treat”.”
“Smoothie?” Giannis repeated dumbly, having never heard the term. He put down the tortilla chip that was halfway to his mouth and swiveled his head around to see what John saw. “I don’t know what is a smoothie.”
“You don’t know what a smoothie is?” John exclaimed incredulously, coating the table in front of him in a fine drizzle of cilantro-lime rice. “That changes right now. Come on.”
“But, my burrito…” demurred Giannis as he was dragged by the arm over to the smoothie stand. Above him were words rendered in a pink, bubbly font: “Smoothie Express”. The menu listed all manner of flavors available for purchase. It was too overwhelming.
“Get me a berry and a mango,” John told the young woman standing at the register. Within a minute, Giannis was seated back at their table, berry smoothie in hand. With his friend looking on expectantly, Giannis lifted the straw up to his lips. “Here it goes…”