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19 October 2010 23:54You know what used to be fun? Going shopping at the "Death Stah" in Porter Sq., Cambridge, MA in the dead of night. Either because of insomnia or working really late or getting a sudden attack of the munchies in the middle of a late-night yakfest with friends. The Death Stah was the local name for the big Star Market that was open 24/7. It might have closed on certain holidays. Then again, it might not have. It was, after all . . . The Death Stah.
Rock music would be blaring on the sound system. The lights always seemed brighter, like someone pushed the dimmer switch to eleven. There was usually a pretty good crowd considering the hour, and everyone was laid back and feeling that camaraderie that attaches itself to the night owls in a world of daytimers. The clerks would be restocking the shelves in a manner not prescribed by the home office unless the home office was situated in Animal House. The produce would literally be flying overhead. Whenever I hear someone yell, "Go long!" I'm immediately thrown back to the sight of fresh produce and canned goods being lofted from one end of an aisle to the other. No one ever dropped anything, either. If there was a manager on duty, I never saw one. Unless it was the guy usually hanging out in the front schmoozing with the cop who was, I'm guessing, charged with security for the store and the parking lot. There really didn't seem to be a need for one, but hey, no one was going to rain on his parade and mention it to the city council. Live and let live, that was the rule of law at the Death Stah. Well, that, and "Go long!"
Rock music would be blaring on the sound system. The lights always seemed brighter, like someone pushed the dimmer switch to eleven. There was usually a pretty good crowd considering the hour, and everyone was laid back and feeling that camaraderie that attaches itself to the night owls in a world of daytimers. The clerks would be restocking the shelves in a manner not prescribed by the home office unless the home office was situated in Animal House. The produce would literally be flying overhead. Whenever I hear someone yell, "Go long!" I'm immediately thrown back to the sight of fresh produce and canned goods being lofted from one end of an aisle to the other. No one ever dropped anything, either. If there was a manager on duty, I never saw one. Unless it was the guy usually hanging out in the front schmoozing with the cop who was, I'm guessing, charged with security for the store and the parking lot. There really didn't seem to be a need for one, but hey, no one was going to rain on his parade and mention it to the city council. Live and let live, that was the rule of law at the Death Stah. Well, that, and "Go long!"
