For The Love Of That Damn Game

I’ve only been addicted to one video game in my life. Yes I jumped on the Guitar Hero bandwagon (but only to show off my awesome not a real guitar skills) and I get a little giddy when the opportunity to play Rock Band comes up (again – skills) but I wouldn’t say I am addicted. No I was really really hooked on only one video game – Shinobi. It was a video game about ninjas and I effin’ loved it. Shinobi lived in one of my local pizza joints, Baldos. I would hassle quarters from my dad and dig around in couch cushions. I would save up all my money because once I got my turn on it I did not want to let it go. My parents would order a pizza and I would beg them to let me go get it. “You will save on the tip!” I would cry until they agreed. I would troop, with deep anticipation, the two blocks to Baldos and there it was. If someone was on it I would become protective and furious. And I would linger. Oh yes I would linger until finally they took the hint and scrammed. (I could give off some mean looks) I would actually get the pizza and just place it next to the game and continue playing. On many an occasion my dad had to come and get me because I had been at the pizzeria for nearly an hour while our pizza turned cold. I would get in trouble over and over again for stopping there on my way to my Grandma’s house and making her worry. No one understood though. The music, the stealth little ninja with his tiny sword jumping and avoiding the worst of the worst. And…I got really good at it and we didn’t own any game systems. This went on until one day, one day!, I did something that made me sever my ties with Shinobi forever. I was on my way to Grandma’s after school and I had stopped in for a game (or five). I had been midway through my first game when I had the urge to pee. I ignored this urge because I was doing so well and as long as I had some change in my pocket I could continue on. By my fourth game I really had to pee but my young stubborn self and my need for this tiny little ninja made me ignore it. By my sixth game I had to throw in the towel. That is because, and yes I know this is embarrassing but I’m sharing, I had wet my pants. Awful. Just awful. I took off and ran all the way to my Grandma’s house. She was none to pleased about my lateness or having to do some laundry (It interfered with her ‘stories’ aka soap operas) but she cleaned me up and that was that. I was over it. I didn’t even cry.

Baldos is still on Nassau Avenue, a constant reminder of my shame. They don’t have any video games in there anymore though. Actually none of the local pizzerias really have any video games. I guess they don’t like kids (especially ones who wet themselves) hanging around. But I don’t even know if kids today would have that kind of passion. I mean – I wet my pants playing a video game in a pizzeria and finished the round before I left. But I did it. I did it all for the love of that damn game.