Dance Dance Revolution

We had the pleasure of the company of our nine-year-old nephew Madison for two weeks this summer. Madison is a city kid so coming out here to the genuine boondocks was a bit of a challenge to his self-amusement skills. Madison explained to me that at home he and his mother and sister often visit the mall just to window shop and/or visit the video arcade. I can safely say that in seven years I have visited the mall for one reason and one reason only--to go to the movies--and the concept of window shopping is completely foreign to me as I never shop without an agenda, but going to the video arcade sounded like a lot of fun to me. This particular video arcade is brightly lit and small enough for me to see all three kids at all times so I actually got to play a few games myself, including a few rounds of Dance Dance Revolution. My best friend Jo absolutely raved about this game and how much fun it was so I had to give it a try even though it cost a buck per game. Madison told me that it was difficult and he gave me a demonstration to prove it, plus I watched a few Goth kids flail around on it for a while before I tried it. My first game was all about figuring out the timing; exactly when to make the move the game asked me to make. The second game was incredible. It seems that I am some sort of Dance Dance Revolution idiot savant because I had that thing going for twenty minutes and passed every level with near-perfect scores until MaryJane parked her tushie on the back step-pad and blew my game for me. I also got to take a few spins on one of my all-time fave-rave games CarnEvil, which is just what it sounds like, a basic shoot-em-up set in a demon-posessed carnival. I am no kind of savant at that game, but it sure is fun blowing holes through maniacal pinheads bent on eating my brain. I was glad to see that game at all, since there are so many fancy-pants stand-up video games these days, but it seems that games like House Of The Dead, Area 51 and CarnEvil have stood the test of time. Window shopping proved to be an experience that put me and Madsion on different pages, so to speak. His idea of window shopping included going into stores and fondling merchandise until the proprietor started glaring or MaryJane started breaking stuff, whichever came first. MaryJane usually beat the proprietor, as she is a little F5 tornado and most of the stores Madison wanted to visit contained either electronics or fancy little objects de crap that are just ripe for MaryJane's bull-in-a-china-shop approach to pretty much everything. We had lunch in the food court, which again was a new experience for me, but I could really see the advantages of eating in there when shopping with a pile of kids because I could stay at the table with MaryJane and send Madsion and Little Nigel off to get their food and still see them the whole time. The kids loved it because they got to eat a melange of different junk foods all at once. I loved it because there was a stall in the food court that only sold french fries dressed up in different and interesting ways and, not to put too fine a point on it, Aunt Flo was in town so a giant pile of cheese fries was just what I wanted. After lunch we went on the carousel because MaryJane had never been on one. She eschewed sitting on the little bench and insisted on being strapped to a horse, which I stood next to so she wouldn't just slide off. When the thing started moving she freaked out for about ten seconds, then she calmed down and by the time the ride was over she was hooked and she wailed like a banshee when she was unstrapped and led out the exit. I got a couple of pouty looks when I denied the children permission to go ice skating, but I was not about to open that particular economy-size can of worms when we already had worms everywhere between MaryJane The Hurricane, Madison's pure and innocent but incorrect belief that we would be spending the entire day shagging up and down escalators to visit every kid-oriented store in the place and Little Nigel's sudden burst of materialism which caused him to ask for pretty much anything and everything he saw. The only store in the entire mall that none of the children had any interest in was the one store that I really needed something from--Victoria's Secret. When I suggested going in there so I could buy some desperately-needed underwear for myself, the two boys acted as if I had suggested eating cow pies, so I dropped the idea. We finished off the mall visit with a round of Slurpees. MaryJane gave herself a nice brain freeze and wasn't shy about telling us all about it at top volume all the way home. I didn't buy Madison a hermit crab so he was disappointed. I didn't buy Little Nigel an African fertility statue, a faux Samurai sword, an inflatable Allosaurus, a $20 t-shirt reading "I Brake For Bitches", a skateboard or any Floam so he was disappointed. I still don't have any underwear, but at least I discovered a new talent and reminded myself of why I don't go to the mall.