Name: Anna Bediones
Sneaker: Air Jordan 11 "Concord"
After relentless attempts at putting size 12 Jordan "Concords" in my cart at midnight, I admitted defeat to the bots and hopped in the whip. I drove through the Canadian snow at 1 a.m. to the nearest mall. I didn't know what to expect for my first campout, but my little brother really wanted Concords for his birthday. And yes, I dragged his 200-pound ass out with me. Mostly for protection.
I was one girl among at least 20 guys. I saw the people they told me to expect to see at a campout: the old head who thought he was most deserving, the new heads who barely looked old enough to know what they were lining up for, the hypebeasts looking for "white Space Jams," and the guys looking to make bank reselling.
We stood in the vestibule for hours, until finally, at 5 a.m., the security guard opened the doors. At this point there had to be hundreds of us crowded around the mall doors. The security guard told us not to run...
You know that scene in The Lion King where Simba gets stuck in a stampede? It felt like that. I thought I was going to get trampled. I made it to the door and found myself suffocating among several bodies. I didn't stand a chance.
So, I did what I had to do. I slipped out.
I walked slowly away from the crowd... Up the stairs... Around the corner... To Foot Locker. I sat there alone.
By 7:30 a.m., a new crowd had formed and more people tried to bully me out of my spot. An angry woman yelled at everyone in line about how she absolutely needed a pair for her boyfriend. The old head from earlier came to me at the front of the line, panic in his eyes. He also needed a size 12. Too bad, bruh.
Apparently everyone who lined up at Champs had gotten kicked out for setting off the alarms and damaging the gate. Twitter reported people getting shot and riots breaking out at other stores. My heart raced as I feared for my life.
The store manager opened the door and began letting employees in. First priority, obviously. More people walked in and out with black boxes. Finally, it was my turn. My brother waited outside with worried eyes as I trudged towards the cash register.
Flashbacks of 2009's Space Jam release flooded my brain. They lost the pair I preordered, and after days of nonstop phone calls and complaints, my sneakers were recovered. They offered me a refund but I refused to lose out on that release. I refused to lose out on this release as well.
$240 later, I had the Jordans in my hand. I caught some guys following us and had to take the scenic route to the parking lot to avoid getting jumped. I could have been acting paranoid, but then again it's not like we haven't seen people die over Js.
I took my happy brother home, and a few hours later, went back for my size 5—one of the few occasions my little feet came in handy.