Pre-dawn shopping takes a lot of stamina

This much I know is true: "Black Friday" shopping is not for wimps.

I somewhat reluctantly agreed to be my youngest daughter's shopping partner for the day-after-Thanksgiving consumer madness. Usually her older sister is her shopping teammate, but she's in Oregon making a living.

I was it.

We pored over the dozens of flyers in Thursday's Inter Lake, strategized and made lists. Having scoffed at this shopping insanity in past years, I was now part of it.

The alarm went off at 4 a.m. because I vowed to be at Herberger's by the time the store opened at 5 a.m. My daughter, Deanna, was set to tackle Best Buy at the same time, but when she saw a line of people stretching past T.J. Maxx, she ditched that plan and joined me at the mall.

Let me interject here that I've never, ever gone shopping at 5 a.m. and wasn't mentally or physically equipped for the task.

This was survival of the fittest. Human traffic was elbow to elbow and we lasted only a half-hour at the department store, purchasing just one item before heading to the real task of the day: getting the 99-cent-per-yard flannel at Jo-Ann Fabrics.

We bellied up to the door about 5:35 a.m., crunched in the heated entryway with 12 to 15 other hearty souls. The fabric store opened at 6 a.m. and those who arrived 10 minutes later than us had to wait out in the cold.

It's during these long, relentless waiting periods that shopper camaraderie is born. Everyone had a war story to share. One woman had been 21st in line at a major discount store, only to find out it didn't have what she was after once she got in the door. Another told of mayhem at an out-of-state Wal-Mart.

There was a lone gentleman in the horde of women, someone's patient husband, no doubt.

"He's a real trooper," my daughter whispered.

A colleague had warned me about pre-dawn fabric shopping. Watch out for the women in sweatpants and baseball caps, he advised. They're nimble and quicker than those wearing heels.

We bolted for the flannel section once the doors opened (we literally were the doorbusters), and apparently every other sewer, quilter and crafter was needing flannel, too, because that's where most of the crowd headed. My daughter needed dozens of different flannels for a gigantic quilting project, so she raced ahead while I paused to get a shopping cart.

Like hawks swooping down on field mice, these sewing superwomen closed in on the flannel, positioned their carts and took no prisoners. Bolts of fabric flew through the air as they were snagged and then tossed to co-shoppers like me guarding carts a couple of aisles over.

We knew it was going to be a long wait as rumors circulated there would be only one cutting table open, at least to start with. So while Deanna hunkered down in an already long line, I scooted to ShopKo to gather up doorbuster deals.

Keep in mind I hadn't had any coffee yet. When I saw pots of hot, steaming java at a hospitality table at ShopKo, I thought I heard a choir of angels singing "Alleluia." I guzzled a cup, wielding my cart through that busy store. A major chunk of change later, I was checked out and on my way back to the fabric store.

It was now daylight and Deanna was finally at the cutting table, having waited nearly two hours in line. Then it was on to the cash register, where a self-described "register nazi" was making sure no one cut in line.

All in all, the fabric shoppers were a friendly, well-mannered bunch. Deanna made friends with the women she'd waited in line with, and they'd shared bolts of fabric they all needed.

Three and a half hours into our shopping extravaganza, we were exhausted and it was time for me to get to work. We had anticipated getting to at least two more stores.

After more caffeine in the form of a double-shot latte, I was ready to face the workday, and colleagues regaled me with their own tales of being in the "Black Friday" trenches. Some immediately vowed "never again."

I've decided to put the experience into the "I'll try anything once" category. After-Thanksgiving shopping may be good for the economy, but I think I'd rather pay a little more for the peace and quiet of shopping during more normal hours.

Next year, I'm sleeping in.

Features editor Lynnette Hintze may be reached at 758-4421 or by e-mail at lhintze@dailyinterlake.com