Alright, sing it with me “Chuck E Cheese is… where a kid can be a kid!!” Isn’t it crazy how a simple song like that can bring back so many fun memories? I used to love this place when I was younger… who didn’t, right? The place was/is a kid’s wonderland. Remember when you would tell your friends that you were having you b-day party there? You were a god! Then word would get out and kids you never met before all of a sudden wanted to be your friend. Don’t get me wrong… you would do the same thing. Hell, you’d even start being nice to the freak crew (you know… the kids that either smelled like poop or ate paste) hoping to be invited to their party. You couldn’t get enough! It was the greatest place on earth! I always thought when I became a parent I would love taking my kids there… sharing with them the same memories that made Chuck E Cheese so special for me. Unfortunately, that hasn’t been the case. I started realizing why my parents were so grouchy and exhausted afterwards. It's just painful. And after watching a friend of mine at a recent b-day party try to compose herself (in what can only be describe as an Olympian type effort) while her children slowly destroyed her will to live, I realized Chuck E Cheese reduces adults into what meth addicts commonly refer to as “Crank Whore Jamie” (Fried, foiled, distraught or just feelin shity). Yep, I found that doozy courtesy of the Methamphetamine Slang Names website. Oh, another winner was “Carpet Shark” (a tweeker desperate enough to comb the carpet for shards where someone may have spilled their baggie). Seriously, who knew this information was out there… anyone?? I implore you, if you have a free moment, look it up… its great fun for you and the family.
Anyway, remember in Shawshank when Warden Norton threatened Andy Dufresne that if he spilled the beans on his embezzling scams he would throw him down with the Sodomites… saying “You’ll think you’ve been fucked by a train”?? Well that’s what it feels like spending an hour at Chuck E Cheese with multiple children under the age of five. I’m not even kidding. It’s congested, loud as hell (It’s like hearing 500 snooze alarms going off at the same time – the kind of sound that would eventually cause an ex-con to snap, then spend the next six months driving one of those Buffalo Bill vans on an endless coast-to-coast killing spree), a 50% chance you’ll catch hepatitis in the restroom, the pizza could easily kill you (everyone has questioned God after eating Chuck E’s pizza… at times even huddling in the fetal position, channeling their inner Nancy Kerrigan and screaming “Why”??) and the employees are either circus freaks or pissed off teenaged girls with a whole lot of attitude. I actually asked the “overly friendly” girl behind the counter for a knife and few utensils the last time we were there and it led to this exchange...
.. ..
Me: I really appreciate your help getting me these utensils....
CC: yeah… sure.....
Me: Kind of crowded in here, huh?
CC: Yep!
Me: Sometimes I pick up prostitutes, bring them back to my home and strangle them to death. (Ok, I made that last part up, sorry about that... I couldn’t resist.)
So, the question is… why do we go? Why do we subject ourselves to this insanity? Because we love our children and we want them to be happy, that’s why! Isn’t that what being a parent is all about? It’s our job dammit! So we’ll continue go and try to enjoy it, but really… deep down inside we’re all praying for the death.
Now if you'll excuse me... we have another birthday party to attend.
