I choo choo choose you

Unless you're one of the seven people left in the world who doesn't have Facebook, you're probably (possibly painfully) aware that today is Valentine's Day. It's pretty bloody hard to escape, what with all the instagrammed photos of bouquets of flowers and heart shaped chocolates and sweet love letters plastered on the walls of all of your happily-coupled friends. But before you complain, spare a thought for those 300 million of us living in here in the grand old US of A, where you don't just have to put up with the virtual rubbing of love and happiness in your face, but also the very real, tangible all-encompassing ever-present reminders of the day. Every where you go, every where, Valentine's Day is announcing itself loud and proud - from the wall to wall displays of Valentines-themed M&Ms in Duane Reade to the pink and red displays in the Uniqlo window to the sad, wilting carnations at the counter of my local deli which the very kind sales attendant tried to foist on me (I'll admit I was at first a little flattered, thinking he was giving me the slightly depressing buds as a sign of his affection, but then I realised he was just trying to guilt me into buying them). The normally-stoic janitor at my office (thought: if I was writing this else where I would have called him a cleaning man, but here it just seems fitting to call him a janitor; weird or not?) even said happy Valentine's Day to me this morning! 

You think you know all there is to know about the commodification of traditions and holidays, but it's hard to grasp the full extent of it until you're chomping on your heart-shaped bagel and you look down to notice you're dressed entirely in shades of pink...