The Arcade

Driving down the expressway with a stupid grin on his face, Cosmo thought of nothing else but where he was going. He hadn’t been to the place since he was a teenager. He wasn’t even sure it was still in business. After all, it had been nearly thirty years. Jeez, most grocery store chains aren’t around that long. Still, he couldn’t help but look forward with anticipation to getting there. The feeling reminded him of when he would skip school with his friends to spend the afternoon in the darkened, neon and black-light cave of electronic wonders that was The Wizard’s Asylum.

The arcade was, in his mind’s eye, one of the happier chapters in his childhood. He was ten when his family moved into town. He wasn’t terribly happy about moving to Washington State all the way from Baltimore. As a kid, you never want to leave your friends, school, and familiarity of neighborhood, surroundings, landmarks, and sense of belonging – in essence, your roots: who you are.

Nevertheless, the move was made. His father was given what turned out to be a very lucrative promotion in some upstart computer company headquartered in Redmond, and had to relocate not only himself, but his family. Awfully thoughtful of him. Still, it hadn’t turned out nearly as bad as he thought it might. He had always made friends easily enough, and there seemed to be an abundance of what he considered “his people”: D&D nerds. He relished role-playing games, the imagination it required, and the creativity it fostered. Besides – it was just plain fun.

Turning off at the exit which would take him to the mall, he thought back to the days when Asteroids, Galaga, and Vanguard were some of his favorite games; when in the course of an afternoon, an entire week’s-worth of allowance would be deposited into the slots of these and other machines. Keep in mind, this was when video games were still only a quarter per game, so you can imagine what a long afternoon this could evolve into – especially if you were any good. Then there was the visit to the comic book store to look for new dice and figurines, followed afterwards by a stop at 7-Eleven for a Slurpee.

Yep – those were the days. Somebody famous – he couldn’t remember who – once said that youth was wasted on the young, and Cosmo agreed. When he was a teenager, he had no idea of how precious those days were - no kid does. Even when our parents tell us to enjoy and take advantage of our childhood because “you’ll wish you did, later” – do we listen? Of course not, because we have no idea what they’re talking about, and suspect they don’t either. How could it get worse?

Most of us gauge our childhood by certain landmarks: grade school, then junior high, then high school – where we get a driver’s license, a girlfriend, and a certain amount of room to stretch our wings; next comes college, which is really just high school 2.0, and all kinds of new experiences. How could this be anything but a series of upgrades?

Then college ends – either by graduation or choice – and “the real world” steps up and smacks the stupid grin right off your face, hands you some bills, and welcomes you into it’s cold embrace. Suddenly, you are an adult. No fanfare, no greetings, no kidding.

So it is the world over, regardless of nation, culture, religion, or language. There are variations, yes, but the net result is the same: out of the nest and into the sky, well-feathered or not.

Cosmo sighed at his internal musings, shook his head, and chuckled. If only you could have a do-over. Heaven knows he could use one. As he drove down the by-pass toward where he remembered the mall to be, he began to wonder if it would feel the same walking into the place. He hadn’t been here in decades. He was beginning to feel a shadow of creeping disappointment . He had nearly resolved to turn the car around and head back home when the mall appeared to his right, just where he remembered it.

Though it was only a little after ten in the morning, the parking lot was nearly deserted, which wasn’t really out of the ordinary, he told himself. There were probably just a few employees and “mall-walkers” at this hour. He noticed that very little had changed on the outside. There was still the fountain by the entrance (now empty), and the edges of the building were planted with hardy little flowers – marigolds, he thought – all down the length of the building. As he parked in a space near the front entrance, he suddenly became anxious to see the inside again, and see just how much his old stomping grounds had changed, if they had changed at all. A smile started to form, until he was in full grin mode. He put the car in “park” and hopped out.

He couldn’t wait.