In the realm of the retail campers: An exploration of the madness behind the debut of the PlayStation 3

Originally this piece was going to be about the commercialization of Christmas. Then about two weeks before the so-called "Black Friday" of 2006, OFF told me that people were living outside of the Cape Girardeau Best Buy waiting for the PS3 to go on sale. I thought, why write about the commercialization of Christmas when that very thing took on a human form and turned an ordinary storefront into a refugee zone?

As a child I remember the Cabbage Patch Kid Riots of 1983 and later on in the '90s there was the annual Tickle Me Elmo Stampedes; these Best Buy campers were a mob to be sure but they were hardly ready to kill each other over a video game console. Today's retail camper, as it were, is interesting because they are perfectly willing to withstand fairly harsh conditions outside of any store so that they can have first dibs on something. A lot of those involved have done this often ... many of them for fun! They love each other's company, the stories, etc. Each camper had a unique reason for being there. Some were there to take their new PS3 home to play it; there was a 42-year-old father who was there to get one for his daughter. But, mostly, these people were enduring the elements for one word, "profit". They had it in their minds that they would buy the PS3 for $650, post it on eBay for five grand and make a bundle. And every person there who told me of this grand scheme thought they were the first to come up with it.

Outside of Best Buy on that cold November night were lawn chairs, sleeping bags, tents and no less than 30 people using them all. No fires, thankfully ... just a few propane heaters. Scattered about the campsite were pizza boxes, water bottles and other refuse.

The first people I came into contact with were 23-year-olds Cody Campbell of Park Hills, Mo., and Randy Ivy of Bonne Terre, Mo., who were just in the middle of a shift change. One of them would stand in line holding the spot while the other one slept in a truck. They revealed to me that earlier that day someone offered them $930 for their spot in line. Instead of taking the money, like I would have, they braved the weather so that they could purchase two, count 'em, two PS3s. They were going to play one and sell the other! Cody mentioned that they first went to Toys 'R' Us. There, they said, customers were cursing and wishing death upon the Best Buy campers. After learning that there were 26 PS3s available at Best Buy, Cody and Randy bounced over there. During our conversation it came up that Wal-Mart was going on sale with their six PS3s at midnight.

Smelling a story and possibly some mayhem, my associate Mister U. and I flew across the interstate to Wal-Mart. In actuality the only story at Wal-Mart was two maniacs bursting through the entrance running toward the layaway department.

Wal-Mart was like it always is at midnight, large but largely quiet. Then we sprinted in and, like a rock through a mirror, shattered the serenity of this after-hours capitalist delirium. In the aisle between shoes and clothes we encountered it -- the first PlayStation 3 sold in Cape Girardeau. It was in a Frito-Lay box being carried by some guy with his wife in tow. "PlayStation 3?" I asked. The wife, Shannon Jones curtly replied, "No, it is not", and they kept going. I didn't believe them. I sent Mr. U. to tail them while I worked the layaway department.

After S.J. bought hers, only six more PS3s were sold at Wal-Mart. Among the 14 disappointees was 19-year-old Ramon Mitchell from Columbia, Mo., who waited a paltry 10 hours ... indoors. He took the Sony Corporation's low production of PlayStation 3s as a personal insult. Jessica Ludwig, a 20-year-old SEMO student skipped class and missed an exam only to be shot down. They should have taken a page out of the Retail Campers Handbook which clearly states, "Get there 72 hours before whatever is going on sale and bring a buddy to help save your spot along with three days worth of provisions."

Mr. U returned to layaway with his report: Ms. Jones did, in fact, have a PS3 which her husband was carrying in a Frito-Lay box. They didn't want to talk to me because they were afraid that I would knock them out and take their PlayStation.

Thursday night was now Friday morning and it was back to Best Buy where I was told that Sherri Fischer, No. 1 in line and the one living in the red tent near the entrance, had been camped since that Tuesday of the same week. Ms. Fischer told me that technically this was not true. What was true was that she recruited someone to hold her spot in line while she worked 10-hour days at Rubbermaid. After her shift she would then drive back to Cape to resume her vigil outside of Best Buy.

Best Buy didn't like the loiterers but they didn't mind the attention, either, going so far as to feed them pizza as they waited for the big sale. Occasionally a cop would drive by and make sure there were still no campfires. Around 2 a.m., the campers simultaneously stood up from their seats, tents, etc., and stood single file. I asked how often do they have to stretch their legs and someone said, "Stretch our legs? We're getting in line. All this was just a break, now it's time to get back to work".

The store would not open for many hours. Some PS3s sold that morning would be played by those in line, some would be given as gifts and some would be sold for idiotic sums of money. Of course, I wasn't going to tell any of them that I had it on good authority that the first few thousand were rife with glitches.