H&M shoppers are either very dedicated or just plain nuts

I wasn't sure whether or not I wanted to go to the H&M opening Saturday morning. Not only would the stores mark the first on the west coast, which would be crazy enough on its own, but the shoppers in San Francisco would also be fighting for Stella. I had heard about how the New York locations sold out of their Stella McCartney goodies in minutes. I knew it would be insane.

On top of all that, my usual partners in crime weren't going to join me in the combat zone. My girlfriends were sick, out of town, had out-of-town visitors, were in true saving mode or just weren't willing to be that shopaholicly nuts with me. Was I ready to face the battleground as a lone soldier? How badly did I want in on Stella?

Lisa put it best when she said, "I have a feeling you'll go. If anything, do it for the blog, girl!" Yes, I would do it for the blog. I had to keep the tour going. I had to let my girls live through my report, if they so wanted. However, as crazy as I am, I wasn't willing to camp out to be the first in line. I wasn't willing to wait in much of a line at all without friends to keep me company.

So, I leisurely made my way to B.A.R.T. at 10 a.m. I was holding onto the smallest sliver of hope that the line would no longer be horrifically disgusting by the time I got there. I figured I wouldn't mind waiting a little bit, and maybe, just maybe, I would find a discarded Stella piece hidden in a random corner. I found myself sitting near two other girls who were also headed to H&M. One commented to the other, "I don't care if it sucks. I'm getting something, even if it's a pair of socks."

When I got to 150 Powell around 10:30, I was in shock. I knew it would be bad, but I wasn't prepared for BaAAAaadD, with a capital WTF! Apparently, people drove for miles and began lining up just after midnight. I asked people who weren't even all that close to the front of the line what time they got there, and they told me they arrived at 9:00. The line snaked almost completely around the block, all the way to Crate & Barrel. There was a literal red carpet and music blasting in front of the building, but that wasn't enough entertainment to keep me waiting for 2-3 hours.

I made my way to 150 Post, the smaller store which only carries the women's line. I figured there was no way that would provide the same ridiculous craziness, right?

Wrong.

It was deja vu. So I sighed sadly and left. I just couldn't do it. I gazed with envy upon anyone I saw for the remainder of the day who toted their H&M bags with proud success. The shopping bag was like a medal or badge of sorts. Instead of "H&M," they should've displayed the words, "I made it in! You didn't! Nyah, nyah to YOU, Jenn!"

I woke up Sunday morning, not necessarily thinking of trying again. And then I wanted to try again. I had to.

I decided to put on my workout clothes and running shoes, and I'd make a run out of my journey. That way, if I ended up not getting inside again, at least I'd be somewhat productive anyway. It was probably a good 2-3 miles each way. Run shopping is great.

I got to Powell, and you won't believe this, but there was still a line! It wasn't all that long, but Taer and I shop at line-free H&M when I visit him in D.C. There was definitely no chance for Stella for me by then, and no Stella means no waiting for me. If I weren't in my Asics, I wouldn't have tried Post St. But I jogged on over...

And I got in! Joy! Success! Celebration! I practically broke out into the Running Man followed by the Roger Rabbit, but I held back. I just shopped.

It wasn't nearly as crowded as I expected, no more than any other Manhattan H&M. It was pretty much what I expected: affordable and trendy. After initially grabbing for things in a mad frenzy, I sanely settled on a top and skirt, an outfit I could wear for work for a mere $60. And I finally got my chance to wear a badge of my own. As I was walking home, I even heard a girl exclaim to her friends, "Look! She got a bag!"

Yes, I did.