A short, freezing line (Black Friday RSD, Columbus edition)

We were warm and content till Braitwaite brought up doughnuts.

Bring up doughnuts in a line, temperature hovering below freezing, and there began the cold’s steady breach of the layers we applied deep in the night. We brought chairs, then stood the entire time. Sitting lets the cold sneak in faster.

Only six people preceded us in line for Spoonful Records on Black Friday Record Store Day in downtown Columbus. We would get the exclusive releases we wanted. The store would not open till 8 a.m., and I promised myself I would not check the time until the cold really began to impact me. 

But everything turned upon mention of doughnuts. The moment that Braithwaite brought them up, my stomach tightened on the mention. Ben called him out on it. Braif knew what he was doing, asking about favorite doughnuts. It stoking the flames of hunger within us. Ben had the car, and volunteered to run to Buckeye Donuts to soothe our stomachs. I handed him an Andrew Jackson, and he sped off toward Ohio State campus.

On Black Friday, he faced no traffic. His departure ate up a half-hour of our wait for the store to open during which time the first blue broke up the Columbus night. Ben returned with doughnuts, coffee and reports of the South High branch of Buckeye Donuts – five homeless guys sacked out on counter stools, none moving while he was in the store. Chocolate glaze, blueberry cake and coffee that exceeded truckstop-grade brightened the dawn immediately.

It would be over in hours, I told myself as my layers slowly revealed their inadequacies. The sweaters and long-sleeved T-shirts no shed every stitch of warmth. At some point in the pre-dawn, it was simply cold, and we could only hope the owners opened the doors early as a mercy, which they had before.

Once the food disappeared, he warmed ourselves on talk of music and just quoting the Simpsons, as was the fashion in our time. Our gang of three was back together for one morning only. We made the most of the brief hours.

The light increased from the east even as the warmth did not. My single layer of bison wool sock no longer held off the cold. I was feeling my surroundings, and not just the record lovers on either side. Any thought that the Great Lakes Brewery line would prepare me for this colder line quickly frozen and crumbled away.

By the time they began handing out numbers for the 45 of Weezer’s cover of Toto’s Africa, I could feel only the back half of my foot. Only the first seven people in line received a copy. I contemplated asking for a voucher for the record – I could resell it on the street immediately. But I didn’t care that much about Weezer or profit. A week later in Nashville, I spotted the same picture disc, a reminder that not all stores are treated equal during RSD.

Everyone got what they intended. Crites left with his Sweetheart of the Rodeo deluxe edition, Braithwaite had a stack of albums no one else would remember, all full of obscurities. That’s how he operates.

For once, nothing on the Black Friday exclusive list demanded my purchase. This year I was actually in line, and nothing captivated me. There  were plenty of good spins, but too often they were dressed-up versions of albums and singles I already owned. These days, my record collection is at a point where I try not to buy for the sake of buying, and almost any of these releases would have qualified.

Once inside the door, I moved past the exclusive crates and dug into the 45s. I pulled out a few gems, enough to make a good RSD showing – Pearl Jam (Given to Fly), Howling Wolf (I Asked for Water), Wings (Listen to What the Man Said) and some modern psych-rock that came heavily recommended by Braithwaite. In 20 minutes, it was all over; we spent more time in line than shopping.

By the time Columbus awoke, we had finished with Spoonful, the owner thanking us for coming out on Black Friday. We dropped off Braif and were listening to records before most of Columbus had stopped fighting over ultra-cheap HD televisions. We had our times and our brief hours of reunion, which I will take every time.