We were strategizing around a coffee table littered with sales papers and ginger snap crumbs when my son, a mere bystander, had the audacity to ask someone to pass the pumpkin dip. The look he got from the huddle of female relatives, including his wife, was long and hard.

“We’re busy,” came the reply from someone clipping a coupon.

“As if he couldn’t tell,” muttered another under her breath.

Our Black Friday discussion continued uninterrupted from that point until a consensus was finally reached and toasted by apple cider: This year, boots would be our main objective.

“So it looks like we hit Goody’s here at 4, head south by 4:30 and get in line at Belk’s no later than 5,” my sister-in-law outlined, raising up three ads and waiting for nods of agreement. That’s when I made the mistake of letting them see me scribble notes on real paper. With a real pen.

“Use your tool,” advised command central, pointing to my iPhone. But even in spite of my lack of techno-savvy, we had a sound plan – child care by the dads, leftovers in the fridge, coupons and groupons divvied out. Yeah, we were set, except for one thing. No one had signed up for the Wal-Mart tour of duty.

“I’ll go,” volunteered my husband from his recliner. Seriously, he did. Unafraid of noisy crowds and long waits (he has raised five children), this man actually likes Black Friday sales. In fact, he likes them so much that when I asked him to go to a pre-Black Friday sale two weeks ago, he did – with a smile. That’s why I knew we could send him on this bigger run with confidence. That’s also why I had to stop and answer his constant texts as I later struggled to complete my own mission at Belk’s.

Him: “WHICH SHEETS?”

Me: “HIGHEST THREAD COUNT.”

Him: “DO WE NEED (WIRELESS PRINTER, GARBAGE CAN, AIR MATTRESS)?”

Me: “NO.” “YES.” “NO.”

Our exchange concerning the air mattress was derailed on my end when an unapologetic motorized chair occupant (cast and all) came busting through the $2.99 towel display. I have to admit his behavior was a rarity, though. Most folks who bumped into the crowd tried their best to out excuse each other. They shared their finds (“Here’s that purse you were looking for, Honey”), and I even saw one customer stop to pray with a cashier. No kidding. Right there at the register.

That was just before my niece came up and told me about crawling around under tables in search of the mate to my daughter’s boot of choice. “Fun” is how she described that pursuit, and she wasn’t the only one who seemed to be enjoying herself. Everywhere I looked, I saw full carts being pushed by festive faces. Customers sharing coupons and internet codes. Bargain hunters taking time to admire the package-beyond-price in my daughter-in-law’s stroller.

I’ve heard the stories of brawls and grabs and totally different Black Friday experiences in other places, but it seems to me that our spot in the South is somehow different. We still remember our manners, even while we shop ’til we drop. When you couple that with complete strangers taking the time to tell us in distinctive drawls just how good the boots looked that we were trying on, it’s no wonder I was able to send my husband (who was checking out a socket set at Sears by then) another text.

Me: “OBJECTIVE MET – EIGHT PAIRS WORTH.”

Him: “GOOD. NOW ABOUT THAT AIR MATTRESS . . .”

Wesson resident Kim Henderson is a freelance writer who writes for The Daily Leader. Contact her at kimhenderson319@gmail.com. <cTypeface:Plain>