There are days, hours, or moments in our lives that become mile markers. And over the course of our lives we often retell the tales: Where were you when you heard the Challenger exploded? Where were you on the morning of 9/11? How did you meet the man you eventually married? And if you’re of a certain age: Where were you when you heard Kennedy had been shot? I believe I just tumbled into one of those mile markers. And while it’s not as dramatic, or tragic, it’s still a real milestone. There was a moment, an hour on Thanksgiving 2013 when I realized I was witnessing the day Thanksgiving died. And it’s now part as much a part of my history as those other events. No loss of life was involved. Just loss of innocence.

It didn’t die for me personally. I’d had a really lovely dinner with friends I’ve known forever: my “tribe. ” We had great food, fun conversation, and everyone expressed a lot of gratitude. But after dinner, at around 8:30 pm it was time to dutifully go see how many people were out and about. My friends said “You’re going shopping, now? ” And my partner and I said, “No…just doing a drive-by. We’ll report back tomorrow. ” Where else to check this out but Aventura Mall, the sixth largest mall in the country? And so forever, in my mind, that drive around the Aventura Mall at 8:39 PM will be the answer to the question “Where were you on the day Thanksgiving died? “

We first did a pass by Old Navy on Biscayne Blvd. Earlier in the day (preliminary drive-by), I’d noticed a lot of cars in the parking lot, and figured I’d swing around later to see what the hubbub was. Well, at 50% off everything in the store, it was a madhouse. We saw a store manager standing atop one of the check-out stands yelling something to the crowd. I had no appetite to go inside and find out what she was yelling, so I just drove on. I still thought it was a sort of “classist ” experience – lower priced stuff, 50% off – okay, that’s sort of the moral equivalent of the 100 or so people I’d seen standing outside of Best Buy at noon…lining up for the evening’s bargains early. Not world changing. Ditto with Target, selling some brand of 50 inch LED TV for what must’ve been short money. There were a lot of people carrying them in carts.

Then we arrived at the Mall. There are few words to describe the volume of traffic. Virtually every single parking space in the mall was full. This was not turning out to be a classist story at all. Aventura is the winter home of some pretty wealthy people. Traffic was teeming at Macys, even Sears appeared to be bustling. Only JC Penney seemed to be missing large crowds. And Nordstrom was reassuringly closed.

But the kicker, the real kicker came as we rounded one corner of the ring road around the mall. Tour buses. Yes, buses had brought people from South Beach and Downtown Miami to visit the mall. The buses were empty. The people were in the mall and the buses were waiting to return them to their hotels and homes later in the evening. That was the moment I knew it was over.

My partner and I had some debate over who might’ve been on those buses. I thought it must be tourists, but why would you trade the paradise that is Miami Beach in December to go shopping? She was pretty adamant that it was locals, choosing to leave their cars at home. That was an even more depressing thought. A week of poor weather for this time of year had taken a break – the skies were clear, the weather delicious. But the choice of thousands was a visit to the mall.

Honestly, you didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that Thanksgiving sales weren’t going to be all that profitable. It’s a bit like shuffling deck chairs on a steamship – you’re just shifting the cadence, not really changing much else. So I wasn’t all that surprised to hear the final tally. I was prepared to rail at retailers over making such a silly decision. That was the easier part.

What totally got me totally gob-smacked was the extent to which people had chosen consumerism over an evening with friends and family. The kindest thing I can say is that shopping has replaced football of the American pastime on the fourth Thursday in November.

I have to say, if I was a retailer, no way would I ever again choose to be closed on Thanksgiving. The people have indeed spoken. I don’t like what they said. But they said it. Give us bargains, or even fake bargains. We prefer it. It certainly wasn’t America’s finest hour. But it was indeed a milestone.