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| - Ran into an old college squeeze last week. Sure has been a while since the last time we talked, something like two decades. She's wearing her hair exactly the same way, and to be fair, she's held up pretty well. I think her weight is still about the same, although she's rocking some "body issue camo" gear, perhaps to cover some "changes," and the lines around her eyes are a bit deeper.
What in the world does this have to do with Summit Mall, those of you still reading must be wondering? Okay, let's step back to the mid-seventies, the height of mall-building in America. Summit was the first in the West Akron/Fairlawn/Montrose metroplex. In fact, Montrose was nothing. It had three things: a broasted chicken shack, a drive-in movie theater, and a horse-riding stable. That's it. If you told your friends to meet you in Montrose, it was probably to sneak into the drive-in with a case of P.O.C. and four guys hiding in the trunk. Otherwise, they would assume you were luring them to a dark, deserted field for either romance or robbery. Or both.
As Montrose rose, yet another five miles of strip-mall blight on the land, so Summit fell. Lost were the anchor stores, forgotten was maintenance, gone were the customers. Then, the facelift began. The subtle cover-up of renovation and luring a few good stores back. The place looks pretty good from the outside, but they've wasted a bunch of parking opportunities on a grand circle driveway that does no one any favors. Inside, it looks less like a shopping mall and more like a third-world trinket market. The kiosks that jam what was once the open concourse are horrid. Just try to walk around without someone jamming a clipboard into your hand: "Have a minute to answer a few questions about anal warts?" The food court is always a filthy mess, although the layout and selection isn't bad, if you don't mind two thousand fat-laden calories per serving. Bon appetite!
While improved, it is still pretty horrid. I would have to really, really need something specific to find my way here. Oh, and step lively if one of the mall-walkers comes flying around a corner on lap sixteen! They grant no quarter.
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