America's fascination with shopping is evident in their large malls or warehouse clubs that can double up as bomb shelters in case there is an all out war with another nation or a nuclear fallout. There is tons of dried food, fresh food, gluten free food, beverages and toilet paper to take care of a small country.
But another comparative data point when looking at how this engine works vis a vis another country where people go to the Souk, Bazaar, Mandai et al is the amount of real estate devoted to parking their automobiles - a short walk away from the center of all things bling or smart or XXL.
These parking lots are large open to sky, paved tracts of real estate in sometimes the most expensive of neighborhoods - if all else fails they rise towards the sky competing with other structures which include the shopping space, air conditioned for plastic swipe excess.
Thusly the lots have well marked zones for storing your chariots - at times resembling machines that could go to war in case the need arose - Hummers and Yukons and Titans.
Malls have zones with color coding and numbering both for finding your favorite food store for Rufus and to remember where you parked the Ferrari (for a quick getaway). They have other amenities to keep the faithful engaged much like a casino would with winding walkways and bright lights and all manners of music streaming out as you stare at the latest lacy / racy creations in the dim showroom of Viky's secret.
As far as the outdoor lots go an occasional recreational vehicle or RV (a demure name for a behemoth that doubles or triples as a hotel on wheels) will also jostle for space while you are merely looking to pull in the store to look for fresh set of underwear. This has given rise to the other Amazonian creations that promise a parking lot free shopping experience from the comfort of your chairs (without underwear if you choose).
But for touchy feely idiots like me there is an innate need to visit the shrine and hold it in your hand - the package I mean. Thence the parking. Lot of parking. Hence the parking lot.
If this parking does not make one feel at Par with former Kings then I know not what might.
But another comparative data point when looking at how this engine works vis a vis another country where people go to the Souk, Bazaar, Mandai et al is the amount of real estate devoted to parking their automobiles - a short walk away from the center of all things bling or smart or XXL.
These parking lots are large open to sky, paved tracts of real estate in sometimes the most expensive of neighborhoods - if all else fails they rise towards the sky competing with other structures which include the shopping space, air conditioned for plastic swipe excess.
Thusly the lots have well marked zones for storing your chariots - at times resembling machines that could go to war in case the need arose - Hummers and Yukons and Titans.
Malls have zones with color coding and numbering both for finding your favorite food store for Rufus and to remember where you parked the Ferrari (for a quick getaway). They have other amenities to keep the faithful engaged much like a casino would with winding walkways and bright lights and all manners of music streaming out as you stare at the latest lacy / racy creations in the dim showroom of Viky's secret.
As far as the outdoor lots go an occasional recreational vehicle or RV (a demure name for a behemoth that doubles or triples as a hotel on wheels) will also jostle for space while you are merely looking to pull in the store to look for fresh set of underwear. This has given rise to the other Amazonian creations that promise a parking lot free shopping experience from the comfort of your chairs (without underwear if you choose).
But for touchy feely idiots like me there is an innate need to visit the shrine and hold it in your hand - the package I mean. Thence the parking. Lot of parking. Hence the parking lot.
If this parking does not make one feel at Par with former Kings then I know not what might.
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