Last week I had to go to an arcade. I hate arcades. Actually, the word “hate” doesn’t sufficiently capture how much I truly despise them. My disdain stems from a number of things.
First, if my kids know we have plans to go to an arcade at some point in the week (because we’re on vacation or someone’s visiting or whatever), they will ask me no less than 17 times per day when we’re going. I actually grow desperate to visit the arcade as soon as humanly possible just so I don’t have to answer them anymore.
Second, there’s the actual arcade:
- A quarter of the games don’t even work so you lose your tokens in them with nothing to show for it.
- The décor is hideous.
- I usually end up having to help my kids play some of the games. I vowed long ago (pre-kids) never to play video games again because I get too emotionally involved. So not only am I in an arcade, but I’m crazy stressed in said arcade.
Third, once we’re all done and the end is in sight, it gets even worse. Because I have to stand there and feed the ticket counting machine the 1000+ tickets we’ve won. And THEN the kids have to decide which prizes they want in exchange for their tickets. Which takes so long that I would have time to view an entire episode of 90210 (specifically, the one where Donna gets attacked in her apartment and the psycho guy attacking her makes her tell David everything is ok behind her closed bedroom door BUT she somehow has the good sense to refer him as “Dave” so that he knows something is terribly wrong and kicks the door down and saves her virgin butt). Plus you literally just spent $20 for 5 Tootsie rolls and a Box o’ Bones.
The good news is now we’re not due for another arcade visit for another six months or so. Happy day.