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Nothing out of Something She wanted to see how strong I was. How could I say no to that? What man doesn’t want to prove his manliness to his wife? So there we were at one of those indoor adult amusement places where they have 80’s video games, Pop-a-Shot, skee ball, and, the piece de resistance, go-karts. And there was this electronic version of the old carnival ring-the-bell-with-a-sledgehammer game. Jennifer urged me to try it. The Man voices immediately told me to give it a go. “You’re fit,” they said. “You’re a black belt. You can ring that bell.” So I hammered that rubber pad as though I was Thor trying to shake the heavens with his thunder. And damned if Jennifer’s man didn’t just ring the bell; he set the high score! That was worth 30 tickets. But no tickets came out. I waited. No reward. So I called an attendant over, and he fixed the machine for us. At which point it started vomiting forth tickets like I’d given it a bad case of stomach flu. It passed the 30 tickets I was owed and kept going. And going. And going. When it finally quit, my feat of manly strength had produced 454 tickets! Jennifer and I stood in stunned embarrassment. We theorized that the machine had been broken for some time, and we got the tickets from the people who walked away without seeking help. All I could think was, “My father would be very proud of me.” Always looking for a deal, Dad would have been impressed at my ability to bang the bell for more than I was owed. Proudly, we went to the shop to turn those tickets into a really good carnival prize – the kind I’m usually not good enough to win. But I was in for one final shock. The rotten U.S. economy had hit the carnival biz too. The 600-some tickets Jennifer and I had acquired (most due to my amazing feat of manly prowess) wasn’t good enough for a super-duper prize. We’d only made it into the upper crust of crappy ones. We could get a candle or a sun-catcher or a foam finger. The sweet stuffed animals were in a higher-rent district. We couldn’t even afford Barbie clothes for Onna. Our theft of extra tickets had only teased us with the possibility of a good prize. Despite my extraordinary prowess, I hadn’t won anything. I was denied that final test of machismo – winning your girl a cool stuffed animal. Sadder than I had been only minutes before, we left the shop. We gave our 600+ tickets to the children of some friends in the hopes that, combined with their winnings, they might be able to actually get something good. She wanted to know how strong I was. So I hammered that bell and forced it to give me more than 100 times what I was owed. It wasn’t good enough, but it was something. |
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