FUNNY BUSINESS
Greater Willmington Business
by Celia Rivenbark

When Novalee Nation -- the homeless and seven-months' pregnant heroine of
Billie Letts' wonderful book Where the Heart Is -- sneaked into an Oklahoma
Wal-Mart to live in the camping section and even gave birth to her baby in the
store, we thought it was fiction.

But hey, it could happen. Wal-Mart, a store that seems to inspire reactions as
varied as its selection of Icees, really wishes you'd stay for a while. I mean a
loooong while.

For years now, self-described "Wally Worlders" have lumbered into the parking
lots of many of the 3,500 Wal-Marts in this great nation and parked their RVs
overnight. For free. And it's OK.

Sure, there's no running water and nowhere to dump your doody, but
Wal-Mart offers a safe place to park and, in a win-win retail move, everything
the RVer needs from groceries to camping supplies to videos.

Ken Perry, assistant manager of Wilmington's Wal-Mart Supercenter on Sigmon
Road, says the local store doesn't get a whole lot of overnight guests, but
they do get a few. "It gives them a safe place to stay because they know we
patrol the parking lot," Perry said. "Not every Wal-Mart can offer it because
there might be local laws against it, but it's OK here." Truthfully, there are very
few Wal-Mart stores that don't offer respite to the weary Wally Worlder.

Most, like the Wilmington store, offer campers the chance to stay one night,
but some are less strict. A Maine insurance adjuster who bought an RV after
realizing it would be much cheaper than paying for extended-stay lodging has
been known to call Wal-Mart home for weeks.

The irony of people out to "see America, up close and personal" spending their
evenings in an asphalt parking lot -- even planning their dusk arrival times
from town to town using a special Rand McNally Wal-Mart atlas -- is not lost on
many.

Filmmaker Doug Hawes-Davis' documentary This is Nowhere (87 minutes,
2002) chronicles the hopes and dreams of these weird wanderers who profess
to want to see nature, meet new people and learn about history but who
wouldn't dream of spending the night anywhere but Wal-Mart.
Part of the appeal is easy to understand: it's free, while a typical campground
with water and sewer hookups and other amenities might cost about $25 a
night.

To the campers, the thrill of getting something for nothing is as appealing as
$2 steak dinners at a Vegas hotel. It's particularly true among the chief Wally
Worlder demographic: the well-enough-off retiree who has no set schedule,
other than perhaps making sure he can see the World's Largest Ball of Twine
before finding his way to Wal-Mart at sunset.

With more than 3 million RVers out there on the highway every day, it's savvy
business sense for Wal-Mart to offer a patch of patrolled asphalt in exchange
for the inevitable run in for a quart of milk, tube of toothpaste or mountain
bike.

Rabid RVers find the final frontier of space at Wal-Mart much more appealing
than a previous alternative: the side of a dark highway or a crime-ridden
interstate rest stop. "It's Wal-Mart," they reason. "What's the worst thing that
could happen?"

A company spokesman said the steroidal stores love these RVers and like to
think of them as "just customers who take a really long time to make up their
minds."

The Wilmington store, like most other Wal-Marts, isn't in a residential area, so
it's unlikely that anyone would object (unless they start dragging out the lawn
chairs and those colored Japanese lanterns). But that's not true everywhere.
In Kennewick, Wash., neighbors of a Wal-Mart that attracts up to a dozen RVs
on holiday weekends have protested the "bargelike highway hotels,"
according to the Tri-City Herald newspaper.

Still, in most cities and towns, the welcome mat is out. Wal-Mart will leave the
light on for you. Just be warned: It's probably sodium vapor and it's on a really
tall pole.