ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER – Following my battle plan, I wheel into the Toys ‘R’ Us parking lot around 6 a.m. I can’t recall the last time I’ve been up this early on a Sunday.
As anticipated, I do see some shoppers more hard-core than me camped in the darkness at the entrance of the store. Still, I am confident my 6 a.m. arrival is early enough.
Careful not to spill what remains of my coffee, I charge through the gloom. But as I approach, a bugle suddenly blasts in my mind, bringing me to a halt:
There aren’t just the campers in front of the store, no, but a line of people attached to them stretching around the corner of the building.
I am in shock – a general faced by a force he has badly underestimated, his troops and cavalry retreating over the horizon behind him.
I try to push my distress aside and continue forward, hoping for the best.
•••
My two young daughters first experienced the Nintendo Wii in August while visiting their cousins in San Jose. Since then it has been their hope that Santa Claus might deliver them a Wii of their own this Christmas. After all, they’ve been very good little girls.
Thinking we were comfortably on top of this humble request, my wife and I began searching for the Wii two weeks before Thanksgiving. We quickly found, however, that Bigfoot or the Loch Ness monster is easier to locate than the elusive Wii, especially one on sale.
I have never been a radical shopper. In fact, only through necessity have I ever “shopped.” You would never find me in line at 4 a.m. at Wal-Mart the morning after Thanksgiving. But my new nemesis, this Wii, changed all that.
Before I became a dad, I’d laugh at the news stories about those people desperately trying to get a Tickle Me Elmo or Cabbage Patch doll. I remember one story where a radio station announced that a plane would be flying over a particular field and all you needed to do was stand in the field with your credit card raised to the sky. The plane would scan your card from above and then drop you your Cabbage Patch Doll. Several hundred people allegedly showed up at the field to find it was just a gag.
I wish I could say, now, that they were stupid.
My initial Wii search started online, of course. But messages declaring “sold out” were all I could find except for cleverly packaged “Wii Bundles” which upped the ante from $249.50 or so to the mid-$600s and higher.
Then there was Craig’s List and eBay – $400, $500, $600. Supply and demand, pal. It’s not about the price you’re willing to pay but what the market will bear.
Thanksgiving came and went. My shot to win a Wii in a contest on Amazon failed. Panic began to rise.
After coming away empty-handed multiple times from the multiple stores I was now frequenting, I found myself seeking intelligence, chatting it up with the good folks at Target, Costco, Toys ‘R’ Us, Best Buy, desperately trying to gather any inside knowledge that might lead to victory in my quest for the Wii.
Typical responses included, “We may get some, we may not,” “We never know when they’re going to arrive,” and “Check back periodically.” I often wasn’t the only poor player standing around staring at the empty Plexiglas Wii cabinet. And the frustration on the faces of the clerks was evident, from having to answer the same Wii questions over and over.
But Lady Luck then threw me a bone. While visiting Toys ‘R Us for the seventh or eighth time, I overheard one of the employees telling another Wii hunter that they would be receiving a shipment of 40 Wiis late Saturday night. Doors opened at 8 Sunday morning.
“If you’re here by 6:30 or so you should be fine,” she said.
My eyes narrowed. My mission was clear.
But now at Toys ‘R’ US, as I pass the campers and follow the line around the corner, I see my mission is in jeopardy. Even so, I take my place at the end of the line, with others falling in behind me.
Rumors swirl: Best Buy would be receiving 40 Wiis, maybe 42; Circuit City estimated 10 and didn’t open until 10 so … President Bush had intentionally set up this Wii shortage in an effort to make holiday shoppers drive great distances during their searches, thereby driving up gas prices and the profits of oil companies.
I entertain myself by making up Wii-isms that reflect the scene: This is Wii-diculous, a Wii-tail nightmare, to Wii or not to Wii – that is the question … .
A pulse of chatter suddenly moves through the line – there is news from the front. A manager has emerged from the store (like Willy Wonka from his chocolate factory) and is, at this very moment, handing out tickets to the lucky 40.
People stand on tiptoe, quivering as the sun brings the morning to life. The manager rounds the corner, comes our way – 20 people ahead of me, 15 – I think I will say “Wii, monsieur, merci,” when he hands me my ticket. But it is no good.
The manager politely severs the line about 10 people away, leaving the rest of us behind like the detached tail of an escaping lizard.
“Operation Wii unsuccessful,” I report to my wife through my cell phone.
“Why don’t we just get one off Craig’s List?” she replies.
I meet the man that afternoon in an underground parking structure near South Coast Plaza. I am fortunate to be the first of many to reply to his ad, posted only 45 minutes before.
I give him the money and he hands over the Wii. We shake hands, closing the deal.
I watch him stuff the cash in his pocket as he disappears into the sea of cars and I clutch the Wii, protecting it. I work into a jog as I head up the stairs toward my sleigh, reflecting on the long search, humming “Feliz Navidad,” battered and bruised but victorious.