Sigh. I wrote a poem too, (below) but guess they wanted something sappy for Atlanta?
I remember clearly the first time our annual tradition begun;
It all started when I was eight, and now, I'm twenty-one.
The parade is over, the Cowboys are on, and mom has just finished stuffing the bird.
Atop the counter rests the day's paper, packed with so many ads it's absurd.
Doorbusters, earlybirds and savings galore,
Overwhelmed and overjoyed each page is something exciting to explore!
Sharpie and highlighter in hand, the spreadsheet begins to grow;
Technology and electronics first, then clothes followed by gifts we will soon bestow.
Arriving at store one, Redbull in hand,
For hours hundreds surround us – they understand.
It's early, you're irritable, and the frigid temps are never forgiving;
Some call it Black Friday, but it's better known as the day after Thanksgiving.
Sometimes it's not just about the shopping, but rather together watching the madness unfold;
I promote the day to all my friends as a one-time experience that everyone must behold.
Finally the doors swing open, the masses rush in – all bets are suddenly off.
Scurrying aisles like rats in a maze, the holiday season has officially kicked off.
Before the sun comes up, it's all over and you laugh at those just strolling in,
Bearing minor scratches and the credit cards maxed, there's still a satisfying feeling from within.
The morning was a success, and again amidst the elements we were able to persevere;
Unloading purchases I look to my sister and exclaim, "I can't wait until next year!"
