Activity One - Zachary

Compared with the streets outside, the Manhattan Mall is quiet, calm, and unassuming. My initial desire to find a map is quickly obviated by the realization of how small a building I am in. Nestled in the shadow of the Empire State Building, the Mall is modest in size. Comprising just two floors of stores, two basement levels housing a giant JC Penny's and about a square block of the city, it is tiny compared the sprawling, suburban malls that I'm used to.
Everything is clean, white, and reflective. The storefronts, as well as the interior walls of the offices above, are all glass. Bad music is blaring in Aeropostale. The mall is relatively empty. Scarcely more than a hundred people wander around with glazed looks on their faces. They have the look of dazed tourists, unhurriedly shuffling between stores.
I make my way to the top floor and lean against the railing, taking note of a few other people lined around the railing staring at the people below. A few bored looking security guards amble around, staring at the floor in front of them. I wonder what I would have to look like or do to get bothered by one.
At first I feel weird being a flaneur. I have a pen and notebook and am obviously here to watch people, not shop. I cease to be self-conscious once I notice how many other mall-goers are here to watch people. A few people sit on benches by the escalators outside of Penny's, several line the railing on the top floor, one man in the subway in the subbasement even has a pad of paper and a pen.
As I move from store to store I notice that everything is on sale. 70% off at Top Gun, 80% at Aeropostale, Red Zone Clearance at Penny's, Toys R Us may as well be giving toys away, Strawberry has more mannequins than people inside. Has the Great Recession hit New York City retail this hard, or is this just seasonal clearance? JC Penny's has a sign reading "retail therapy for the winter blues." But who has the blues? Is it me or JC Penny's?
I notice several stores have their windows blacked out with paint and their doors barred with bicycle locks. Kiosks on the ground floor are empty and covered with tarps. I wonder what it was like here on this day in 1999.
I briefly consider interviewing a few employees, but conclude that this is not the role of a flaneur. I am not here to learn the reality of the mall, I'm here to observe and draw my own conclusions. There is a certain irresponsibility afforded to me in this role. I can construct whatever narrative I care to, ascribe whatever meaning I choose to the signs I encounter here, make people into whatever I want them to be. I am constrained by bare facts, but bare facts have no meaning in their own right. A bit of creativity easily overwhelms the obvious while retaining plausibility.
I buy nothing. I talk to no one. I touch not a single commodity. After a couple of hours being here, I feel a bit anxious about returning to the bustling streets outside. I stand at the glass door for a time, delaying the inevitable. While I wait to overcome this inexplicable surge of agoraphobia, I read the bizarre rules posted by the entrance:
"No obscene language.
Groups of 4 or more may be broken up.
Photography and film require the mall's consent.
No sitting.
No loitering."