I'm not looking at it like I'm trapped here anymore, which is good. Rather, it's like one of those riddles about being locked in a room with a dead man, a blog of ice, a squeegie, toxic gas and a copy of Good to Great. It's a problem to solve, and there is a way to do it, the realization is just lagging is all.
My friends and I went to Main Event Entertainment on Sunday, a combination bowling alley, pool hall, arcade, laser tag, ropes course and most importantly, bar, for the venue's soft opening. To get in, all I had to do was assume the identity of high school student Jesse Butera, and pretend I had been on a scavenger hunt with my senior class of '09. Thank God I shaved that day and they didn't ask for ID. I never thought to ask what became of the real Jesse Butera, or how my friend Andrew came into possession of his ticket.
I bowled two games with a fairy tail theme playing on the scoreboard, a spare conjured up a wizard who slashed his wand across the screen. Strikes were rare enough that I do not remember what came up in that instance. Maybe an ogre. Everything was free due to the soft open, so we ordered from the set menu of chicken tenders and sandwiches and tucked in to a meal reminiscent of my actual high school days, right down to the honey mustard dipping sauce, which is to say I'm glad it was free.
Cut-throat at the pool tables came next, where I excelled in mediocrity two games in a row. I took out my frustrations on electronic buffalo in the arcade before mistakenly attempting to shoot bears with a bow and arrow. Rambo the video game gave me insight into the lonely misunderstood veteran as I lived out scenes from Firts Blood. Neither of these games prepared me for laser tag, where I was shot from point blank range from by a fifteen year old girl.
I finished the evening with my first loss at air hockey in recent memory, followed by a short stint shooting terrorists in Time Crisis 4.
The whole four hours I was there, I'm pretty sure I had fun, but honestly, I can't say how.
I've got to get out of here.
