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My Very Special Trip to the Nike Store [ by David Cross ]
There's a little mom and pop store where I live (the quaint hamlet of Hollywood, California) that gives away free shoes. It's true! It's called the Nike Store, and they'll give you free clothing . . . well, not you, but me. Now, I've got plenty of money. I do not need free shoes, and hopefully never will. Still, I went to the Nike store. In fact, I called them and arranged an appointment. And it wasn't for research purposes. When it comes right down to it, I just wanted the free shit. I was getting ready to leave L. A. for a week in the Nike-friendly township of Aspen, Colorado, for the annual Comedy and Executive Write-Off Vacation Fest. I try to participate every year because I enjoy paying twenty-five dollars for a hamburger, and listening to wealthy white people bitch about comedians. All the more reason to stock up on minimally used winter wear. I called the nice lady (who shall remain referred to as "The Nice Lady," 'cause she was) whose sole job is to corral a seemingly never-ending stream of real-life, honest-to-gosh celebrities through the maze of logo-embossed Nike swag. I told her who I was, and what I did. It turned out that I had the potential to show up on a television set occasionally. And that, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is the only criteria for getting free clothing and accessories, hand-spun by the gnarled, malnourished, immature hands of children unfortunate enough to be born into a poverty-stricken country whose government's ethics jibe perfectly with our government's. But I digress. For some reason, it's located in an industrial park near the airport, but there's good soul food nearby, so there. Anyway, to make the experience of getting free clothing even more enjoyable, the store is designed to resemble the interior of a fancy-pants professional basketball arena, albeit one filled with jock-wear. The playful quality of the store seemed to wash any misgivings I had down the Nike drain, and straight into hell where they will remain. I was escorted (or es-"courted", ha-ha!) around the showroom by the nice lady. She walked around pointing out various shoes here, or a sweatshirt there, and would say, "This is nice. What about this?" My response became limited to a few "yeah"'s, or "sure"'s, all the while stocking up for the impending race war with enough Nike clothing to keep myself in black market-bartered fresh water and ammo to last until the New Republic Of Unimerica was recognized by the "Jew World Order." I turned down very little that was offered. I remember being suddenly honest when presented with a couple of turtlenecks with the Nike Swoosh prominently displayed on the turtle of the neck part. "I wouldn't ever wear those, no thanks. . . . Oh, okay." I got the feeling that not too many people turned stuff down. Would Shaq have taken them? That's for me to know and you to find out. Although I don't know, but if you find out, please keep me informed. (Note to self: Call Shaquille O'Neal -- ask about Nike turtleneck.) Well, the end result of all of this was not only walking out of there with a new friend, someone that I will forever more refer to as a "nice lady," but with bags of clothing that, as of this day, are scattered about the United States in various Goodwills, ex-girlfriends closets, and on the feet of several Mr. Show staffers. So remember, next time you see newly arrived immigrants, eyes wide open, fearful and intimidated by our great Marketplace, look down at their feet. Are they wearing a fancy pair of high-tech sneakers? They are? Oh, those are from the Nike store. I gave them away.
David Cross, who can be seen in such features as The Amelia Earhart
Story, The Slugger's Wife, and Destiny Rides Again, is the
bald, Jewish one on HBO's Mr. Show.
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