I went to a birthday party last week to to celebrate my friend’s son turning two. Now, I have been to Chuck E. Cheese since I was a kid. In fact, I almost worked there for my very first job but somehow I wound up at Jack in the Box where I met my future ex-fiancee. And I’ve seen it pretty busy. But on this day, it was INSANELY busy. The blare of video games, screaming children and singing from the Chuck E. ensemble almost knocked me down when we walked in the door. I swear this place is like Vegas for kids. A sort of pleasure island for shorties. My first reaction was to run away but of course I couldn’t do that or I would face the wrath and disappointment of a 4 foot something red head. So I marched on, smile on face and turned my patience meter up high.
Our time spent was mixed with frustration and fun. Fun because I still LOVE video games. I’m a Ms. Pacman and Galaga girl myself. Digressing into memory. I remember before school every day, my mom would take my sister and I to a donut shop. And in this donut shop was Galaga. I freggin loved eating my donut and playing Galaga before school. Maybe that’s why I was such a good student. Hmmmmm. Snapping back into present. Fun because I love watching Paris have fun. I love watching her play the basketball game. She’s actually quite good at it. And who doesn’t love seeing all those tickets come out? Is it just me or does anyone else know the trick of getting more tickets? Ok, I’ll tell you but don’t tell Chuck E. I don’t need that big mouse after me. When the tickets come out you tug on them just a little bit so you get more. Only problem is the last few times I’ve attempted it, it didn’t work. So I think they caught on. Dang! But it was also frustrating because when we went to go turn in the tickets after putting them into the ever so clever munching machine, we waited in line for 15 minutes. 15 MINUTES!!!!
Which brings me to my point. I’m wondering if the guy who invented Chuck E. Cheese loved his parents or secretly hated them and took his anger out by building a place where parents would have to go, get wacked over the head with a constant barrage of loud sounds or accidentally hit over the head with the wack-a-mole hammer. Not only that but face the guilt when their kid, with a crack addict look in their eyes, comes begging for more coins and we say no it’s time to go. How about dealing with the anxiety with losing your kid in a sea of other kids? Ya, I know they have that whole stamp your wrist with a fluorescent number thing, but I’ve watched people walk right past the door attendant when they weren’t looking so I don’t know how safe that method is. And if you are there for a birthday party, you’ll have to put up with the spaz attack your kid will have after downing fruit punch, cotton candy, cake and lollipops.
So I ask you, is Mr. Chuck E. Cheese a genius or a manical tyrant with a vendetta against all parents? I can only imagine the money that man brings in. I want to be that man’s friend, but if he has big Chuck E. and Pasqually dolls in his house, I’m out. What do you think?
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