Eastview Mall

Yesterday (Tuesday, August 2, 2010) I set foot in Eastview Mall for the first time in my entire life.
I needed a protective sleeve for my Apple MacBook Pro laptop computer (this computer), and I was aware there was an Apple store in Eastview.
I ordered one from Amazon, but it wasn’t big enough.
My wife and I are not mall-people.
Never were.
Years ago I used to shop a store in MarketPlace Mall.
Used to buy my Jockey-shorts there too, back when it was Sibley’s.
Sibley’s became Kaufmann’s or perhaps something else first.
Now we buy everything online, so we don’t have to frequent a mall.
Shortly after my stroke we participated in a fundraising walk inside MarketPlace for Rochester Rehabilitation; where I was doing post-stroke rehabilitation.
Rochester Rehabilitation is affiliated with Al Sigl Center.
It was the last time.
A bagpipe band was serenading us.
It was unbearable.
Beastly loud, and echoing within the concrete caverns of the mall.
We had to cover our ears.
I used to shop the Sears at MarketPlace, but a few years ago, when we needed a new washing machine, we decided to try the Sears at Eastview, since it was closer.
Prior to yesterday, that was the closest I got to Eastview Mall. I never went inside.
Eastview has been around for years, and has apparently become the sales-tax cash cow for Ontario County.
That’s because it’s actually in Ontario County, the extreme northwest corner.
It’s at the southeastern edge of the metro Rochester area, but actually Ontario County. Not Monroe County, which Rochester is in.
I guess it’s quite successful, almost as much as MarketPlace, which is gigantic.
So, here we go; find the elusive Apple store.
I parked about a quarter-mile from what appeared to be a mall entrance, although it could also be a bistro entrance.
I’ve been advised I should get a handicap tag, but I don’t feel I need one yet.
But a quarter-mile in blistering heat to what might not be an actual mall entrance seemed a bit much.
But it was a mall entrance, so into the fray!
72 degree climate-control; almost frigid.
People were sitting on mall benches, quietly stroking their iPads, or perusing Proust.
A thunder-thighed tart in short-shorts strode past, cleavage bouncing.
And then another tart with red-dyed hair shaped into a gluey iridescent mohawk flecked with stars.
I walked into the wide center corridor, and began looking for that Apple store — I was also carrying this laptop, wanting to not drop it.
“Boom-chicka-boom-chicka-boom-chicka-boom-chicka” from a store I passed. They seemed to be selling ladies’ underthings; perhaps Victoria’s Secret, with it’s promise of torrid sex.
Banana Republic and Coldwater Creek.
The new L.L. Bean store in the Eastview area (a standalone) has a gigantic model of L.L.’s original hunting shoe outside — entirely in character.
“I’d hate to face the guy that wears that thing,” I think. “A shoe for Sasquatch.”
I wandered down a side corridor that seemed to drift into emptiness; stores unoccupied, and for rent.
Except it seemed to direct toward another mall entrance, larger than the one I had used.
Back to the wide center corridor, and there’s the Apple-store.
Into the entrance, and I find myself surrounded with geeks and little children playing computer games on iPhone4s on display.
I headed for the back; there seemed to be a service-desk.
A doe-eyed thing young enough to be my granddaughter eyed me warily.
She was wearing the same blue frumpy iPad uniform tee-shirt all the Apple geeks were wearing.
Our eyes made contact, but I wasn’t sure.
Finally, “may I help you sir?”
Across the generations.
“I need a sleeve for this thing.” (I had brought this here laptop along.)
She went to a set of shelves and brought out various sleeves.
“I guess this’ll do,” I said.
“I can check you out right here;” just a tiny hand-held gizmo that does everything wirelessly.
One end sent out the scan-laser; looked just like the Millennium Falcon, throttling up for hyperspace. (“Let’ er rip; Chewy!”)
“Credit-card?” she asked.
Credit-card scanner on the right side; BIP!
I laid this computer on the counter and placed the sleeve on top.
“I don’t think this thing is big enough,” I said.
“No, it’s not,” she said. “Your laptop must be 17 inch.
All we have at 17-inch are these polyurethane sleeves.”
“Which is what I wanted in the first place, so we’ll swap,” I said.
“Shall I e-mail your receipt?” she asked.
I rattled off our e-mail.
Back into the wide center corridor, dodging thunder-thighed iridescent mohawks.
And the mall sitters quietly stroking their iPads.
Back into steamy reality, sleeve in tow.

• Both Eastview and MarketPlace are large retail shopping-malls in the Rochester area. MarketPlace is in the suburb of Henrietta, south of Rochester, and nearer.
• My wife of 42+ years is “Linda.”
• “Sibley’s” was a large Rochester retailer, now out of business.
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993.
• Rochester Rehabilitation and Al Sigl Center.
• We live in Ontario County.