OPINION: Doing the impossible, somehow

There’s something deep within me that’s fascinated by Black Friday. As a kid, I grew up with stories on the news about rabid crowds fighting over microwaves and televisions. My parents were always wary of the holiday and rarely went out, especially once online shopping became far easier.

But the energy of Black Friday, the idea that deals could be so good they were worth the spectacle of combat and crowds, is fascinating. Distinctly consumeristic, luxury placed on a pedestal and dollar signs of savings. Possibly this is the American experience to dwindle our savings on massive purchases just because we won’t see these deals for another year.

For Black Friday in 2025, I had one goal. A big 4K TV for my living room.

As a movie guy, I sometimes have the instinct to get very snobbish over how to watch movies. I’m not going to wax about the prettiest colors or the biggest screen because the content of a film doesn’t depend on those things. However, now that I watch movies at home more than in a theater, I figured an upgrade might be necessary.

I never took the leap on 4K for two reasons. One is how I was in a state of transition for most of this time. Living with my parents, moving to college and then moving here always felt like I needed to be ready to pick up and move. Smaller TVs were very easy to carry under my arm, and I carried around one for several projects in college.

The other is how 4K never felt like a proportional upgrade, especially to the upgrade which defined my childhood with 480p to HD 1080p. Composite cables to HDMI, and suddenly everything was clearer, sharper and prettier on a big TV. 4K just seemed overkill.

Still, when I was at Walmart staring at a price tag for a Vizio 65-inch 4K TV for less than $250 (I was used to a time when 4K TVs used to cost four-figures in 2016), I knew it was time.

One small thing. Two employees helped cart the TV to my car in the parking lot, which I heavily appreciated especially during such a busy time with Black Friday. I tried to tip them but apparently it was company policy for employees to refuse tips. I’m sorry I’ve forgotten their names, but they were great!

Something I should have contemplated before purchasing the TV was how I was going to get it home. It’s about 10 miles from Creston’s Walmart to my apartment in Afton, which is no big deal as long as the 65-inch TV can fit in my Honda Fit.

Packaging dimensions for the box will always be longer than the TV itself, and I estimated the length of the box was about 5.5-feet long. Luckily, the height of the box could fit in the bay of my car, which just meant I had to figure out how to get the length in so the back hatch could close.

This became a bit of a struggle. Imagine looking at someone in the cold, snow piling slowly around them, having all four doors and hatch of the car open trying to maneuver a box clearly too big for the car into place. It’s quite embarrassing to be so publicly failing, and my face was blushing not just from the cold.

Eventually, after pushing the front seats of the car all the way forward and a lot of shimmying, I fit the damn box in. I actually cheered in the parking lot when I heard the hatch click, popping off over what I felt like was mad genius. I climbed into the front seat and noticed a small problem.

The experience of sitting in that car, seats all the way forward, was like driving around in a clown car. My legs were bent like I was riding a tricycle, my hands resting on my chest while holding the steering wheel. It was a contortion made even more annoying whenever I had to brake and the box smacked the back of my head.

But I was doing it. My tiny Honda and a TV. I made the drive along Highway 34 and parked at my apartment in Afton and sighed. I noticed a light had appeared on my dashboard signaling a door was open somewhere in the car. This turned out to be the hatch. Huh. I got very lucky.

I carried that TV all the way down the stairs into my apartment (an experience I’d describe like a tango with a heavy rectangle), built the thing, and placed it on my dresser which was now dwarfed by a humongous TV no sane person would ever need. In that moment, I was giddy.

I have a serial issue where I never want to ask for help over personal problems. This whole trip would have been easier if I just asked a buddy with a truck to help me. But I also feel a wild amount of pride doing this all by myself.

That’s sort of the point now whenever I look at this big living room eyesore. I’m settled into a home that’s mine. Impossible things become possible. I can do anything.

I’d bring a tape measure next time, though.