Morning At the Mall, Part 4

But back to the sub-culture idea.

Sub-cultures have practices that outsiders don’t know about, because they’re outsiders. I felt like an outsider that morning, not because I don’t know how to walk, but perhaps because I was alone and most of the other walkers were not, and I didn’t walk as fast. I also felt like everyone there knows this mall, the little crannies and side areas to add distance, and I don’t. They know exactly how far down a side corridor to go before making the turn, and they know where all the restrooms are, and I found out there are more of those than you might think.

Besides, I did not look like them (that is my strong belief). I was not about to tie my sweatshirt around my waist, and I don’t like carrying things, like a water bottle, for instance. Certainly I would not have felt comfortable joining any group at a table, even if I had wanted a mall breakfast. And I don’t drink coffee.

So, yes, outsider. I’m okay with that.

Sub-cultures also have their own languages, their own jargon, which can exclude and sometimes alienate outsiders. I can’t report on that with entire certainty, because I heard nothing of the private conversations of these mall walkers.

However, I think I know what they talk about. Walking, their new walking shoes, their legs, feet, backs, massage therapy, their weight, their health, their last doctor appointment, life outside the mall, why they missed a day walking last week, who has dropped out, and, maybe, who has died. Probably they count laps, not necessarily out loud, and some of them may keep track of their lap times. I’m guessing, of course.

If these subjects and the language used to discuss them do not seem exclusive, I still say this is a sub-culture. And I’m thinking, “It's a group I have never claimed membership in, never wanted membership in. Yet here I am, walking the mall. But not tomorrow. No sir. Tomorrow I’ll be walking outside.”

And I did.