A whopping eight (8) degrees this morning, with the wind. I am so looking forward to the commute this morning. Of course, this is probably nothing compared to Vermont buddies. Like them, it’s not the cold I mind, but the commuting in the cold. The bus is always too hot, especially after bundling up to go outside. Then it’s another jarring climate change when I go back outside. Then once more when I get to the office.
When I was younger, (which is more than a decade ago, but not long enough to be the “good old days”) my father would bring me to La Jolla Village Square. In that shopping mall was a place called Yellow Brick Road, which was a Capcom test arcade. There, I would meet with friends and unofficially compete against other groups of players to see who could “hold” the Street Fighter II machines.
These were not mere quarter munchers. These were gladitorial arenas, forty-five inch wide screens, with seats for the competitors, meticulously maintained controls, and a constantly changing roster of challengers.
Two rules.
Putting your quarter up on the machine meant “you got next.”
“Winner stays, loser pays.”
While I was establishing my fighting game “street cred,” my father would sometimes stay for a few games, but not anything so forward, down, down-forward, punch. He would head towards the back of the arcade, usually the deserted area next to the skeeball and the whac-a-mole ticket dispensers.
There, behind all the glitz and glamour of the fighting game arena, were the pinball tables.
I never saw the appeal. Where was the satisfaction in knocking a metal ball around a table? I would never understand.
Then, one day in high school, I was in line on the Darkstalkers Nightwarriors machine. The current champion was playing an aggressive Pyron that relied on one move over and over. I observed him for a few matches and I felt confident I could take him out with a non standard Morrigan. But that battle was five quarters down the line. So, I had some time.
I saw an Addams Family pinball table. The movie had come out a few months ago, and the table was a tie in. I had just watched the movie, so I was intrigued. I put a quarter in and launched a ball up the chute.
A few minutes later I had lost all three balls straight down the middle.
Then my turn was up on the Nightwarriors machine and I gave no conscious thought to pinball for a few weeks. Whether or not I won the game is lost to memory (I would like to think I won that match, my Morrigan at the time was pretty good) but the memory of the Addams Family table remains. It has lingered with me long after I stopped going to video arcades to beat up people. (I now do that in privacy of my own home, in the company of friends.)
I was waiting for a movie, and there, in the lobby of the theater, was an Addams Family pinball machine. I gave it another shot. This time, I learned with subtle timing, I could actually aim the ball. My time and score were both much higher than my first experience. From then on, I was hooked. I started playing them, not only when I had downtime between matches, but just to play them.
There is a physical, tangible aspect of pinball that cannot be captured with sprites and a monitor. There is an actual metal ball on the table. It may stray from where you were sending it with the flipper. It may hit a bumper so hard that it jumps and hits the glass with a crack so loud that it snaps you from focus and you lose track of the ball for a moment.
I learned things. How to pass a ball from one flipper to the other. How to “save” a ball that has already fallen into one of the outlanes.
It is interesting to note that a pinball table is one of the only machines in the world that will actually respond if you physically hit it.
I really do enjoy the game, and whenever I see a table, I make it a point to play it.
It is sad then, that I had to witness the death of pinball.
‘Twas the night before Xbox, when all through the city–
Those without preorders were feeling real shitty.
The previews had been read, with the utmost of care,
predicting many good things, but the box would be rare.The fanboys had lined up, despite all the cold,
to count down to the second 360s were sold.
And I in my jacket and cellphone and bag
was going to attempt a mid morning snag!At the first shop, what a scene I did see–
People lined up, outside BestBuy, Tenley.
Away to the metro, I sprung like a flash
Hopped on the red line, to yellow I dashed.At Pentagon City, I quickly departed
But as I entered EB, I found I was thwarted.
My buddy, the manager, stood quite dejected.
“We only received half of what we expected!”I saw there, a woman afraid to walk out,
A 360 she had, but with it, some doubt
About human nature, she had some great fears
Of her 360 looted, stolen by peers.I saw a few friends, simply waiting in line
They’d have 360s, but where was mine?
As my phone started ringing, insistent in tone
I swore I’d acquire a box of my own.On my cellphone was Dan, and after casing CostCo
Found that they were sold out, and we had to go.
I met up with Dan outside of the mall,
racked my brain back and forth for some kind of cure-allMore rapid than eagles, to the stores we then flew
And found out from cashiers what we already knew.To Sears, to BestBuy,
to WalMarts most rural!
To Target, to EB,
and electronics stores, plural!
To the front of the line,
to the back of the store,
“You can’t be sold out,
please say you have more!”Alas we were thwarted, as the car was quite empty
Thanksgiving would be without the 360.
Then we had lunch, and I went in to work.
As dwelling too much would have made me berserk.I sprang to the web, to FireFox gave two clicks,
Navigated to eBay, and counted the ticks
My coworkers heard me exclaim as the page came in sight,
“Two thousand five hundred fifty dollars for a 360?!
You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
It’s not really my thing, I really don’t cook. I think I heat things up, mostly. When pressured, I can throw things into a slow cooker or follow a recipe. For the most part, I don’t cook.
I do love food. Which is why I like watching the food network at people’s houses or reading SlashFood.
That said, this recipe for a Hawaiian inspired cranberry relish sounds tasty. I think the lychees would be good in there.
You may or may not have heard of this white box coming from Microsoft. You may have heard of its capabilities to render entire worlds, to create online communities, play all of your (completely legal) media from your PC on your television, and make a damn tasty omelette.
Me being me, I want one. I want one now. First revision hardware be damned, I want one. I have four other consoles connected to the television, games still in shrink wrap, games I can’t even play because they are Japanese imports, and I want one.
But I also wanted a condo and I got one. Now look at me.
I couldn’t bring myself to buy another console. After all, this is the “Year of Restraint.”
On the other hand, what if I earned it?
So two weeks ago, I made a deal with myself. I said, “Self, have I got a deal for you!”
I don’t drink enough water. I find it endearing that this particular behavior is a bad habit because you don’t do it.
I would pay myself one dollar each half-liter bottle I drank at work. Nothing extreme. By all accounts and by what “they” say, I’m supposed to drink about three or four of these a day. By putting the $800 carrot down the line, I figured that I would be able to drink that much water in about six months.
In two weeks, I made $7.
I obviously do not drink enough water.