Dallas weather shocked the masses once again with its decision to snow this weekend, although this time it wasn’t greeted with the same excitement or reverence as it was the last time.
I’ll never forget Feb. 11, 2010, when I woke up to find Narnia outside my dormitory window, but this past Sunday didn’t provide me with the same “Oh, my God” feelings. When I conducted a very scientific poll, gathering data on the first five Dallasite’s weather-related Tweets, I realized I was not alone.
To explain the strong attitudinal difference I have three theories: 1) it’s late March, 2) it happened over the weekend so school wasn’t canceled and 3) we’ve gotten to the point of such ungratefulness that miraculous weather only impresses us once a season.
Personally, I coped with the weather by taking a little trip to NorthPark. Clearly, Dallas’s finest shopping emporium provided the perfect escape from the snow. There’s nothing like frolicking around man’s concrete jungle with man-made weather and the nectar of the gods: Jamba Juice.
But when the skipping tired me out, I decided to engage in some serious sociological research: people watching. Or, as my professors prefer, naturalistic observation. What I quickly began to realize was that just as NorthPark served as an escape for me, it also provided a specific and individual purpose for every other mall rat in sight.
Preppy, goth and surly youths surrounded me at every table in the food court. Their conversations ranged from Abercrombie and American Eagle T-shirt sales to debates on whether Robert Pattinson looked hotter on the “Twilight” or “New Moon” DVD covers. For these tweens, the mall provided a place for freedom. I remember the days when my parents wouldn’t let me cross the street without an adult but said it was okay for me to shop at the mall for five hours on a Saturday afternoon. The mall is a place where nine to 14-year-olds grow up and explore their independence.
On the other end of the spectrum, the elderly also like to congregate in the food court. I saw a lot of 80+ men in navy velour jumpsuits with their noses in books. Every once in a while you can catch them peeking up to smile at a little girl with one hand in her mom’s, the other around a Sonic milkshake. For these people, NorthPark provides an escape from the lonesome La-Z-Boy in an empty house.
For the upper-teens, the food court provides a crash course in the real world. Pick any fast food establishment and you can witness a young man taking his first steps into the workforce, learning the ropes of responsibility and hoping to fill his pockets with a little cash (probably to be recycled back into NorthPark).
Every so often I see a woman powerwalking, desperately trying to stick to her New Year’s workout regime in spite of the weather while trying to save money by not signing up for a gym membership. I also see babies, wide-eyed in their own world, trying to process the chaos. For these children, the mall is a place to learn, witness interactions and explore something outside of the Disney Channel.
And last but not least comes the sometimes overlooked but greatly appreciated janitorial staff. These workers are generally middle-aged women who speak broken English. They work flawlessly without complaining even though they undoubtedly have one of the toughest jobs in the area. NorthPark provides the custodial staff with a uniform that, I’m convinced, is a shallow attempt at giving them some form of visual dignity: a mock tuxedo.
But that’s a rant for another time.
Simply put, NorthPark provides the community with a lot more than somewhere to participate in consumption.
Logan Masters is a junior sociology major. She can be reached for comment at [email protected].
