I, Mallrat

Some people, when reflecting upon my highly obnoxious personality, refuse to believe that I could have ever had a childhood. It's hard to contemplate that I could have had a wide-eyed, innocent youth while trying to balance that image out with my current megalomaniacal behavior.

But it's true. Not only did I have a childhood, I spent most of it at the mall. Sometimes, when I feel the need to reconnect with a less jaded version of myself, I still go there and wander around.

The mall was the first real taste of freedom for me as an early teen. Not yet old enough to drive, yet old enough to be left unsupervised for a night, the mall is where many kids first test their wings. I suspect this is true for many folks, not just yours truly.

Back in those days (for me, the mid 1980's), me and my buddies used to have a blast roaming the mall for hours at a time. It saved our parents from some hefty babysitting bills, and allowed us to get our first look at...are you ready for this...girls from other towns!

Oh, the fun.

My friend Jimmy and I, especially, had a good thing going. We were a team, you see. It went like this:

1) Jimmy, with his impeccably feathered hair, good looks and roguish charm, would lure the cutest mall skanks in for some hardcore flirting action.

2) I, with my nerdy looks, loud mouth, not-so-nicely feathered hair (parted down the middle, no less) and blooming sociopathic behavior, would proceed to scare them off. (Obviously, I'm not a fan of the "jump on the grenade" method, where the ugliest guy flirts with the ugliest girl to save the rest of his pack the trouble. I am the grenade.)

Oddly enough, when we got old enough to cruise Broadway and scare off a whole new batch of nubile skanks, Jimmy didn't invite me to come along with him. Coincidences, coincidences.

But my memories of the mall in those days are all generally good. Whether it be wanton rejection by pubescent teenyboppers or throwing pickles at unsuspecting pedestrians from the upper deck of the Burger Chef, it was all in all a good time.

The mall has changed a lot since I was a kid, but there are enough old standbys left to remind me of those days. Even the stores that have disappeared over the years sometimes leave little vestiges of themselves behind, like a little reminder of what used to be.

And my, what used to be. Whether you want to blame it on a sluggish economy, high rents, or the explosion of big retail joints on the other side of the interstate, consider what used to be in the mall:

Burger Chef/Hardee's. Gone. Now it is, a Trevor's. Can we assume it's been thoroughly degreased? Venture/ShopKo. Gone. Boarded up. The Cape West Cine. Gone. Boarded up. (It's kind of spooky to think of four movie theatres still back there, utterly empty for several years, isn't it?) Tantrum's/Port Cape West, where I sucked down more than a few beers in my halcyon college days of the early 1990's. Gone. Now it's some sort of Kiddie Fitness Center, or something equally innocuous. The Great Hot Dog Experience (later an incarnation of A&W). Gone. Sbarro's. Gone. (Now occupied by the Bread Company, so really, that's probably not a bad thing.) York Steak House, home of the world's best honey glazed chicken. Gone. Now, of all things, a Lerner New York. Once again, a marvel in degreasing technique. Tobacco Lane. Moved out. Payless Shoe Source. Moved out. Hot Sam's. Gone. Pass Pets. Gone. China Gate. Gone. (No relation between the last two entries, I am certain.)

There was even, at one time, a restaurant hidden away in the middle of Famous-Barr. I can't for the life of me remember its name, but it is also long gone. (Bonus points for anyone who e-mails me the name of that place, as I would love to remember.)

The big fountain at center court. Gone. (What sort of sicko gets rid of a fountain? You animals!)

Sears never moved out, because it never moved in, despite the incessant flurries of rumors over the years that it would do so.

There are countless other stores I'm sure I left off the list that have come and gone over the years; I simply listed some of those that were near and dear to my heart.

And, to be fair, many stores have stood the test of time. Famous is still there. As is J.C. Penney's. And Waldenbooks. Plus, Spencer's. Kay-Bee Toys. Radio Shack. Chick-Fil-A. Tilt (though far too well-lit now, not at all like the dark, cool dungeon of my youth.) GNC survives. As does Gospeland. (Hey, it is Cape. You'd have to figure the religious bookstore would make it.)

The cookie joint, another mall mainstay since the day before dirt, nearly caused me to have a coronary by closing for a bit. Historically, the cookie shop always had the cutest girls in the mall. That loss would have been demoralizing. But it did re-open under a new name, so that piece of mall history remains relatively intact.

When I moved to St. Louis after graduating from college, I used to make sure I went to the mall every time I came home. Inevitably, I would be amazed at all the things that had changed since my last visit. I would also, inevitably, run into people I knew while I was there. I used to think that maybe there was more people in the mall at any given time from my hometown than are actually in my hometown. This still happens, though less than it did before.

As much as things change, at least, the mall remains. And the space remains. You can walk into a store, and remember what used to be there. It gives you something to cling to.

That's not always the case with some places; other stores that stand alone may face the bulldozer if they go out of business. Or they become Chinese restaurants. Or bars. They may become parking lots. Or, even worse, just another piece of landscaping. (More on this in an article yet to come.)

Let's hope that no one ever paves the mall.