Today when I came back to the office after a lunch break, I hit the small room in the parking basement to catch the elevator. I’ve been down there a million times, and it is usually pretty odorless, unless one of the asshole chain smokers from the internet company on the 2nd floor had just passed through after a ciggy break.
But today I got hit by a smell as soon as I entered, and as I waited the 30 seconds or so for the elevator, I realized that this odor was exactly like the one I remember from arcades in the 80’s and early 90’s. I don’t know if it was new carpet, or just some kind of cleaning that creates it, but this just popped memories into my brain that was decades old.
Man, arcades. As a teen and in my early 20’s, my friends and I spent a lot of time in them. Often one of us would be playing Berzerk or Pacman, and the others crowded around would start singing some song from our then favorite film, the Heavy Metal movie. There you were trying to navigate around enemies coming at you from all directions, while your ears were assaulted by Cheap Trick – “don’t be afraid to drive the nail in the wood, or drink the bottle it ta-tastes so goo-ood. You go the distance, you never thought that you could…”
In later teen years we would go more often with girlfriends, but that was never quite the experience you had with your pals. With your gal you had to play Burger Time or Q-Bert or some other lameass game (OK, I kind of liked them). Hell, when you were with the girl you didn’t even skateboard to the place. You fucking drove there. Talk about the end of childhood.
I don’t really remember that last true arcade I regularly went to. I think sometime in the early 90’s there was one near Century City, but that was the last classic, carpeted arcade I remember. Oh, I’m sure Disneyland or some other place I never go in adulthood might have something similar, but I doubt it. I’m thinking about the common, carpeted, arcades that were one big room in a building that was formerly probably a furniture store or some such.
In the late 90’s during one unemployed summer, I’d give myself a 5 dollar limit and cruise down to the Santa Monica pier arcade (pictured above). It sure wasn’t carpeted, and it smelled more like Santa Monica bay (a fishy, tar smell at that time – it’s less polluted nowadays) mixed with hobo power B.O. But it was my last regularly visited arcade. It’s still there, but the pier is just too touristy now. I played a ton of House of the Dead that summer. I loved that game, and I was no fan of stand up shooters. Too bad Uwe Boll fucked up the movie version, which should have been a no-brainer (agents in suits blasting their way into an undead hell house. What’s so hard about that?).
My last game there was probably around 2001 or so. I stopped in and House of the Dead was gone. So I poured a few quarters into the current Street Fighter game. Eventually some Mexican dude came out of nowhere, dropped a quarter in, and proceeded to beat my unskilled warriors ass up and down the screen. I don’t know the protocol on “join in” games, but I was kind of irked. I was new to the game, and wanted practice. I think I said something derogatory, along the lines of “chupa mi pinche verga cabron,” and just walked away, leaving poor Guile or whoever to be helplessly massacred by Juan-Carlos. In retrospect, I should have tried to get some tips from the guy for my trouble. But I guess at that point I missed my 80’s arcade fun, with old teenage pal “Doc” Winslow shouting a Blue Oyster Cult song into the side of my head while I tried to operate Dirk The Daring.
Now, I love my consoles. I’m really digging Fallout 3, and so far have finished the game, but am still exploring via the Broken Steel DLC. But no arcade smell at home. Just the acrid smell emanating from a nearby empty beer bottle, and the whiff of shame for spending way too much time alone with that game.
“Reach out and take it
Reach out and ta-ta-ta take it
Reach out and take it, aw yeah!”
