I can remember a much more innocent time when all I needed to make me happy was a video game. Bills, student loans, women, job woes...I knew none of this. All I knew was the shiny quarter sliding down the slot and the cathode tube embracing me. I can remember so much of that era...arcades come and gone, games that are forgotten (or best forgotten) and Pac-Man. For a few years, everybody loved Pac-Man. It was a simple game compared to the HALO that we have now. Who can imagine being so captivated by a moving mouth eating pellets and being chased and chasing ghosts?

Ellwood City, my hometown, had one upscale arcade and three dirty, smelly dens of ill repute that were the Mos Eisley of my small origins.They were the bridge arcade, which basically sat on the 5th Street Bridge, where dope kids and burnouts swung their drunken legs over the bridge. Of course, my dad was the art teacher, so all of these kids loved my father. So, I was treated quite nicely by this rough crowd and even allowed on the machines that they monopolized. The second was the poolhall, buried in a basement and I went there once, with my grandfather, who was about the only member of my family who was hardassed enough to take me along. I begged for years until he gave in and took me and to tell the truth, it wasn't what it made out to be. It was kind of boring. The third was the Newsstand, which is the only arcade left in my depressing birthplace. And it was there, after a night of fine dining with my parents at the Gilded Cage, in 1982, that I first saw her.

Ms. Pac-Man. Now, how cool was that? My mom took me to arcades all the time, never playing, but now she was hooked. I remember the excitement when Atari released Pac-man for the famous Atari VCS (or 2600 or Sears Telegame). With baited breath, we laid down our $50 and sat in a restaurant in little Rochester, PA called the Hilltop, infused with red light and dreaming of what was to come. We hurried home as fast as we could. We all agreed to do our homework and chores and then reconvene to play Pac-Man until bedtime. I couldn't wait...to see the little yellow mouth cut across my screen, to beat those ghosts, to use my patterns to beat the game in the comfort of my own home.

We plugged it in and we realized the sad truth. Pac-Man was ruddy brown, the sounds were wrong and everything was horizontal where it should be vertical. We tried to justify the game. We tried to wish it better. We wished that it was the real thing when it was painfully obvious how poor it was. We convinced ourselves that it wasn't really all that bad.

Looking back, I realize that this was the first time I had ever been truly disappointed. Whatever childish innocence I had was thrown to the dogs and now, I was full of cynicism. I wish I had never bought that fucking game.

Photo - S
Words - S