Hating the mall is an emotion that all men are born with.  Nobody knows why, but I think it's simply a part of the "y" chromosome.  So is the desire to watch the ends to movies that we've already seen a thousand times.  That could be why there's a "Y" in "Rudy" and "Caddyshack" and "Shawshanky Redemptiony".  (Please note there is no Y in "Mamma Mia" or any film that deals with traveling pants.)

I rose above the hatred last week, however, and went to the Queens Mall to buy some new clothes.  Rather than wallow in regret, I chose to focus on the opportunities that lay before me.  For example, thanks to my driving being below Big Apple standards, I was able to listen to pissed off cabbies and brush up on my Middle Eastern curse words.  Furthermore, once in the mall, I had the chance to test Newton's theory — which in this setting states "for every action there is an equal and opposite annoyed reaction from a stuck up Abercrombie sales girl".   

While walking just outside Macy's, I saw a woman calling repeatedly for her son who had apparently wandered off.  I can imagine this would be one of the worst feelings in the world as a parent, of not knowing where your child is in a crowded place.  Under normal circumstances, I would truly feel for this woman, and I did for a split second.  But then I chuckled about it, because the kid's name was Marco.   That's right.  Marco!

All serious concern quickly evaporated when a dozen jackasses like myself played right along by yelling "Polo!"  The boy returned immediately, no doubt in a hurry to get his mom to stop shouting his name.  It should be considered child abuse to name your kid Marco if there's even the slightest chance you could lose him.  Why not just name him "Hip-Hip!" or "Gimme-a-B!" 

But the truth is, there's a huge challenge to picking a good name for your child.  Parents nowadays seem to want a name that's unique but not weird.  Normal but not too common.  The happy medium lies somewhere between "Bob" and any of the Zappa kids. Hollywood celebs and music stars aren't good role models, because they seem to like naming their kids after body lotion scents and cereals at Whole Foods.  Things like Lime Granola Lilac and Springtime Mango Glitter are the celebrity standards you should aim to exceed.  

I'm not judging normal parents and whatever names they choose for their children.  Maybe that lady named her son "Marco" to prevent him from running away, especially at pool parties.  Who knows?  Maybe it was a family name, thus carrying on a tradition of making worrisome situations hilarious and fun.  It even managed to make the mall more fun.  

In fact, I withstood minimal damage to my Y chromosome.  But just to be sure . . . I'm watching the entire Rocky boxset tonight.  Hip-Hip! . . . 

Categories: Columns