Chris Dewey's Curious Childhood: Glory Days At The 'Cheese

Like many Boston College students, I had the fantastic opportunity two weeks ago to make the trek to South Bend, Indiana, an exciting tourist spot that is rivaled only by Disney World. During my stay there I had the privilege of visiting two of the community's finest bars, both of which made Mary Ann's look like a swanky, sanitary establishment. Friday night's watering hole, Finnigan's, boasted a handful of arcade games, a feature that caused us to start referring to the place as Chuck E. Cheese's. Consequently, I began to reminisce about my glorious childhood days spent rotting my mind away at arcades.

Chuck E. Cheese's was one of the hottest birthday party spots for kids in the 1990s. For whatever reason, parents thought it would be a pleasant excursion to take a handful of rambunctious children to an institution filled with junk food, sugar, and enough flashing video screens to send the average person into a violent seizure. Nothing screams "good time" like traversing a germ-ridden climbing structure and swimming through a ball pit frequented by countless children at varying stages of toilet training.

These birthday parties always began with the host parents dividing up a hoard of game tokens to each guest. Some of the games at Chuck E. Cheese's allowed children to collect reward tickets that could be exchanged for prizes that would be tossed in a closet later that night and never seen again. Still, it provided for a cutthroat environment where kids would do anything to earn the top score in skee ball, even, *gasp*, cheat. Another ticket- producing station was the ever popular Whack-a-Mole and its less-recognized cousin, Whack-a-Crocodile. Although you were expected to bash the animal of interest with a padded mallet, most found it infinitely more productive to simply use their fists.

While many of my peers flocked to these consoles that doled out tickets, I was typically found stationed around the rewardless video games. For my money, nothing could top the four-player Simpsons game, a sides-scrolling beat 'em up classic that allowed players to battle against a variety of foes as Homer, Marge, Bart, or Lisa. Another favorite attraction of mine was the interactive Jurassic Park game where you and a buddy hopped into a model jeep and warded off a constant barrage of bloodthirsty dinosaurs.

Now at an age where it would be highly inappropriate for me to take a stroll into Chuck E. Cheese's, I realize what a chaotic hellhole that place must have been for anyone over the age of eight. Between the intermittent performances of the robot animal band, the sound of crying children, and the obnoxious pleas of partygoers for more game tokens, it must have been enough to make any parent want to throw back half a bottle of Advil. Thanks Mom and Dad for your patience, but honestly, what were you thinking?

Though Wikipedia tells me that there are still 542 Chuck E. Cheese locations open today, I find it unlikely that these sorts of hot spots will still be around when I have my own children. With the constant technological improvements to home video game consoles, there is no practical purpose to go elsewhere and pay to play. Though the world might be better off without places like Chuck E. Cheese's, it makes me feel old to realize that a big part of my childhood is now outdated and unhip to kids.