A lot of stores are open for business on the Fourth of July. That doesn't surprise me anymore.
There used to be these things in Massachusetts called The Blue Laws that prevented people from doing anything except going to church and mowing their lawns on Sunday . . . unless you forgot to fill the gas can on Saturday. Then, you weren't mowing your lawn on Sunday. These Blue Laws also extended to state and federal holidays. In other words, nobody except police and firemen and hospital staff worked when the Blue Laws were in effect.
What does surprise me about stores being open on Independence Day is that now stores are posting their holiday hours as "Open normal business hours." I mean, seriously. How many people are going to be out shopping on the Fourth of July for anything other than burgers and beer?
This is my mindset when I decide to go to the Used Book Superstore on July 4th.
I tried this same trip last Independence Day. That time, I got within two-tenths of a mile and had to turn back because the road was closed for a parade. Bad planning on my part. This year, I wise up. I am not going over until three o'clock, after the parade-goers have packed it in and taken off. That gives me two hours to turn in old books and then buy more. This way of thinking means that anyone who had parked in the big lot for the parade will be long gone, and most sane people will be at barbecues and pool parties or in the ER after blowing their fingers off with M-80's.
I wait in line to get my return-books credit and am pleased to add twenty dollars to my account. I grab a carriage and begin to maneuver through the wide aisles and quickly realize that having a cart is a truly stupid idea.
This place is mobbed.
I have never seen so many people in this store, leading to multiple conversations about writing and publishing, and strangers sharing author recommendations with each other. The check-out line looks like Christmas mall shopping. It's so packed that I only buy myself a couple of books and decide to carry over a balance for next time.
When it's my turn at the register, I say to the clerk, "I'm so glad you're open today, but I thought maybe it would be dead in here on the holiday."
"Me, too," she says with a small grin. "This is quite a surprise."
As I sit in my car, prepping to head home and checking my text messages that I ignored inside the store, I notice two people unloading boxes and boxes and more boxes of books to donate and/or sell. Some people may be at parties that are popping, but the real magic is popping right here in the bookstore.
