November 21, 2005, 5PM: I leave work an hour early. Word is that the Best Buy in Sterling, VA is one of a handful of Best Buys across the country opening at midnight to sell the Xbox 360. I called the store, where customer service informed me that they will not be handing out tickets or allowing a line before 6PM. I remain cautiously optimistic.

5:33 PM: I arrive at Best Buy to discover hundreds of hopefuls already camped out under tents. According to those in front, there are at least 100 more people in line than 360s that will be sold, apparently praying for a weird natural disaster to wipe out just those in front. Best Buy started handing out tickets that morning, contrary to the information given me by the clerk.

5:38 PM: I drive to the Wal-Mart across the street. I assume I will find a similar circumstance there, as well as at the nearby Target. To my surprise, there is a tent out front, with all of three people under it. I ask if they were they were the official line. They are. I run into the store real fast to call Rich on the pay phone and let him know I'll be camping. Those in line tell me the store has 14 units to sell when they open at 6AM: 4 premium and 10 core. By the time I am an official line member, I am 10th, which means a core system for me. Disappointing and expensive, since I will now have to buy separate peripherals.

6:30 PM: We're getting to know each other under this tent, and one of the women seems to be the unofficial leader. She's there getting a 360 for her daughter as a Christmas present. She decides to give us all numbers, and rips off pieces of paper with the numbers 1 through fourteen on them. A store manager has yet to come out and acknowledge us, so for now, we are telling people the system is sold out and making arrangements for food and bathroom breaks.

6:46 PM: The store manager finally emerges and introduces himself. He admires our dedication, and tells us we need to police ourselves and let everyone know there are none to be sold. He returns to the store, and I suddenly realize I am hungry, freezing, and my bladder is going to burst. I am growing to like these people in line with me, but I am still too untrustworthy to let the fact that I have to pee ruin my chances. If I have to starve, get frostbite, and piss my pants, I'm gonna get a 360, goddammit.

7:25: Four of the folks in line is a parent, two of whom have brought their child for the fun. One of the parents is a type-A personality blond with a bad chain smoking habit. While most of use are good natured, knowing what we have gotten ourselves into, this witch is complaining about the pouring rain and the 40-degree temperature. She's sick, apparently, and she needs to go to work at 7 the following morning. For the next hour, we endure her complaints until she decided to go home and take a shower. One of the other dude's girlfriends takes her place, and she thankfully zooms off, leaving all of us to chat without the whining.

8:37: Blond bimbo is back, now whining that someone moved her folding chair and it's now all wet. Honestly, I don't care at this point: I'm cold and wet myself, so I don't give a rat's ass about her sad problem. The other supermoms, however, are nurturing the entire crowd, and the leader runs home to get a large kerosene heater. The only dad in the group, this nice (but not very bright) burly guy, runs into Wal-Mart to see if there is something he can get to keep those of us on the other side of the tent warm. Eventually he returns with a bunsen burner and some of those packets of portable heat. I have no gloves or hat, so as soon as he comes back, I go in to the store to pee, and grab a hat, a pair of gloves, and a hot pink folding chair, so I can sit in style.

9:59: One of the dudes is a graduate student studying for an exam. He's brain dead, so he offers to run to 7-11 to get us all hot coffee or cocoa. I give him a few bucks for cocoa, since I hate coffee. The rain is pooling on the edges of our tent, so we occasionally have to bounce it out, lest it start dripping on us more than it already is. The manager comes out; he isn't happy with the kerosene heater, and tells us we need to shut it off. He also cautions us that when the store closes at midnight, we could set off the alarm if we get too close to the windows. He goes back inside, but we never do shut off the heater or the bunsen burner, and no one ever does return to tell us otherwise. Not as if it's doing much good, since my feet are soaked, and the chill is traveling through every bone in my body.

10:32: The dude with the cocoas returns, and I run inside to get McDonald's food from the kiosk in Wal-Mart. A Big Mac has never tasted so good. When I am finished, I try to play some Lumines, but my fingers are too cold to make it much fun, and since I don't have earphones, the hypnotic nature of the experience is drowned by the rain and the weird looks from passersby. I get into a conversation with the other mother, who is a guidance counselor in a high school. She's perfectly lovely, and her son seems quite nice too. Another young guy joins the conversation, and it turns out, he is buying a 360 so that he can sell it on Ebay. It seems kind of unfair, but hey--this is is a free country. If he can get money for it, all the power to him, I guess.

1AM. It could be 1AM. Who knows. All I know is that bunches of morons who stayed in line for a 360 when they knew they weren't getting one are now trying to infringe on our line, and we don't like it. We wave everyone off with our scrap vouchers. One dude doesn't seem too happy, so he returns to his car and sits. We watch him converse on his cell phone. He'll be trouble.

2:44. I am freezing cold, so I take one of the hand warmers and stick it in my shoe. Turns out, they don't do such a good job when they get wet, so my search for warmth is in vain. I try to lower my head and sleep, but that doesn't go well, either. Half of the group is playing poker with chips and cards they bought before the store closed, but I don't feel like moving from the hot pink deck chair. One guy I've made friends is comparing the Dreamcast launch with this one, but much of it is nonsense, so I just let the words flow through one ear and out the other. I hold my hands over the bunsen burner, and briefly wonder if I should have brought any test tubes or petri dishes.

4:22. Line-breaker dude is back, and he brought buddies. He's demanding to see our vouchers. We show him the scrap paper, and he looks incredulous, so he starts arguing with graduate student guy. I am thankful that blond witch is on our side: she cusses him out and he returns to his car. We vow allegiance to each other and begin to form an actual line.

5:00. The morning manager has come in. We ask him what guarantee we have that these morons won't be breaking into our line. He offers nothing and enters the store. Fortunately, he comes back a short while later and opens the outer doors, lallowing us to come into the warmth. Weirdly, I get a case of the shivers, and I spend the next 10 minutes shaking, although I am warmer than before. Super-guidance-counselor-mom asks if she can sit in my folding chair. I tell her to go ahead, but only if she wished to make a strong fashion statement.

5:33. Moron and his friends push open the outer doors and crash our line. We know the crap they are trying to pull, and know we won't allow it. And it works: when the morning manager returns to us with the real vouchers, he simply exchanges them for our handwritten vouchers. Dejected, the asswipes leave, and the manager opens the inner doors for us so we can go pee. Almost all of us go at the same time, making me wonder if our pee had actually frozen in our bodies and now needs escape after thawing.

6:00. Surpringly calm, we walk to the electronics department and redeem our vouchers. By the time I have the 360 in my hands, I am so thankful I want to hold it like a long-lost lover. Instead, I am worried that the moron may be waiting to lynch me outside, so as soon as the box is paid for, I rush out to my car and leave. I head for the Wal-Mart at Fair Oaks to get my accessories, knowing my system is safe and sound in my trunk.