Huh...
OK, loyal Drink at Work readers, I have a confession to make...
Like the Town Fathers of Bayou City, I too am an overgrown 17 year old boy.
How do I know?
Well, here's my proof...
(Let me warn you in advance: this story is really mundane at first, but trust me, before you know it, it turns into a thrill a minute fun-ride that'll leave you begging for more - almost...)
Like any self-proclaimed Wild Man, I sat down a few weeks ago to start my taxes early.
(See? I wouldn't kid you people. If it got more mundane, I'd be starting with today's shopping trip, which included a fantastic deal on Friskies cat food...)
I hadn't done the math yet, but I had a hunch I'd be getting a little something back.
When I actually did the math, I was pleasantly surprised to see that I was getting more than I expected.
What was I to do with this nifty little windfall?
Perhaps I could replace the sad 10-year old corduryos and non-ironic, so old-it's-not-vintage-T-shirt that I'm wearing at the moment...
Perhaps my girlfriend and I could take a little trip...
Or maybe, just maybe, I could finally justify buying...
Drum roll, please...
An Xbox 360.
Yep. That choice pretty much made itself.
Oh, I had all kinds of justification for the purchase - once I'd made up my mind:
In fact, before I start getting 475 comments a minute from the hordes of 17-year olds (both real and emotionally retarded like me) who roam this Inter-Net, let me assure you all that I read more "PS3 vs 360" debates online than is healthy for a 30-something man.
And I'm aware that the Wii has that nunchuk thing.
But you know what?
When I play Nintendo games I feel like a 9-year old Japanese girl, and the tax return, while nice, was not PS3-with-actual-games-and-another-controller-nice...
So please, leave the tech-forum comments at home, in your mom's basement, where both of you belong.
Aw, shucks. I'm rambling again.
Point is, today, with crazy weather above us and no weekend plans or obligations for the first time in a long time, I trekked out to Circuit City to buy myself an Xbox.
The transaction was simple enough - that's not where the story is.
The story comes with Circuit City's unique approach to under-promotion: their thin, clear, downright flimsy plastic bags.
After buying myself an Xbox 360, I found myself stepping out onto 14th street in Manhattan with a clear plastic bag that clearly held... an Xbox 360.
A number of thoughts should have hit me at this moment:
At that point, I was faced with the less-than-ideal options of wandering around Union Square with an Xbox 360 dangling from my hand while looking for an ATM or trusting The Fates, Fortuna and/or Odin and getting on the subway.
I chose the latter and instantly regretted it.
I was no sooner through the turnstile before I realized the bag was stretching and was about to break. At this point it hit me: I'm going to own this thing for no more than 11 minutes.
Like any intrepid blogger, though, I steeled myself for the experience, convinced it would make a thrilling tale for those of you who worked through the cat food sidebar, the tech debate and the incredibly mundane discussion of Circuit City packaging protocol - and are still with me at this point.
I told myself, "fuck it. I'm going to trust in human nature for once and just relax. And if it gets stolen, I'm going to go all Captain America on the thief and write about it for Drink at Work."
Just for you, loyal reader, I braved a veritable Underworld of loathsome characters, all gunning for my prized, tax-windfall toy...
Like Cerberus himself, a three-headed Peruvian band (with, less supernaturally, three bodies) greeted me at the ramp to the L-train.
Fortunately, I managed to pass by their six eyes un-noticed, as they closed them to pipe their haunting tunes...
No sooner had I dodged my Andean nemeses than I faced my own Charon, an old, blind Polish man playing the accordion at the bottom of the steps, attempting to distract me from my precious cargo...
Finally, horror of horrors, as the L train arrived and pulled me deeper into my subterranean hell, I met Persephone herself.
She's a writer or a video artist or something like that, and she lives in my neighborhood. Anyway, she pointed at my conspicuous cargo and asked why I picked the Xbox 360 over the PS3. I was a bit thrown off, but I managed to mumble, "um... personally, I went for the system with more games..."
(OK, I never got her name, so I'm not sure her name was Persephone, but there's a chance, right?)
Folks, it wasn't until I got home that I realized how disappointed I was - I didn't come close to getting mugged.
I took the fucking New York City subway on a busy Sunday afternoon, dangling an Xbox 360 in a too-crappy-to-be-believed see-through Circuit City bag, and all I could get out of it was a contrived underworld/Hades metaphor.
Shit.
What a letdown...
I was really hoping to come back all fired up on adrenaline, stunned that my ill-timed, new faith in humanity had been disappointed.
I was going to beat myself up for your amusement, frustrated that I fell for the one-guy-bumps-into-you-then-his-friend-grabs-your-bag trick...
I was going to recall, in slow-motion memory, how the hipster next to me said, "whoa, man! That guy just grabbed your Xbox and ran!"
I was going to tell you how I tried to chase the guy - I really did - but he handed it off to another guy, and dammit, they knew exactly what they were doing...
Later, I was going to respond to all of your comments, about how you wouldn't have let that shit happen and how dumb I was and how if only I knew Brazilian jiu-jitsu I could have at least taken my aggressions out on the "whoa, man!" hipster...
Instead, I'm sitting here, still somewhat surprised I got the thing home.
Now, the only real question remains:
Do I really want to spend all afternoon setting this thing up while there are mint juleps just waiting across the street?
Like the Town Fathers of Bayou City, I too am an overgrown 17 year old boy.
How do I know?
Well, here's my proof...
(Let me warn you in advance: this story is really mundane at first, but trust me, before you know it, it turns into a thrill a minute fun-ride that'll leave you begging for more - almost...)
Like any self-proclaimed Wild Man, I sat down a few weeks ago to start my taxes early.
(See? I wouldn't kid you people. If it got more mundane, I'd be starting with today's shopping trip, which included a fantastic deal on Friskies cat food...)
I hadn't done the math yet, but I had a hunch I'd be getting a little something back.
When I actually did the math, I was pleasantly surprised to see that I was getting more than I expected.
What was I to do with this nifty little windfall?
Perhaps I could replace the sad 10-year old corduryos and non-ironic, so old-it's-not-vintage-T-shirt that I'm wearing at the moment...
Perhaps my girlfriend and I could take a little trip...
Or maybe, just maybe, I could finally justify buying...
Drum roll, please...
An Xbox 360.
Yep. That choice pretty much made itself.
Oh, I had all kinds of justification for the purchase - once I'd made up my mind:
- It would give me something to do on lazy, rainy weekend afternoons that, while not exactly productive, was not too self-destructive - and most importantly, something other than wandering to the bar across the street and drinking mint juleps all afternoon
- I could re-claim my video game manhood, long-lost after the IT guys at my first real employer (of many) forced me to remove Duke Nuke'Em 3D from the network
- Seriously, those mint juleps, man - they go to your head and next thing you know you're doing Sunday night karaoke, it's 3 in the morning and you're not sure where your phone is...
In fact, before I start getting 475 comments a minute from the hordes of 17-year olds (both real and emotionally retarded like me) who roam this Inter-Net, let me assure you all that I read more "PS3 vs 360" debates online than is healthy for a 30-something man.
And I'm aware that the Wii has that nunchuk thing.
But you know what?
When I play Nintendo games I feel like a 9-year old Japanese girl, and the tax return, while nice, was not PS3-with-actual-games-and-another-controller-nice...
So please, leave the tech-forum comments at home, in your mom's basement, where both of you belong.
Aw, shucks. I'm rambling again.
Point is, today, with crazy weather above us and no weekend plans or obligations for the first time in a long time, I trekked out to Circuit City to buy myself an Xbox.
The transaction was simple enough - that's not where the story is.
The story comes with Circuit City's unique approach to under-promotion: their thin, clear, downright flimsy plastic bags.
After buying myself an Xbox 360, I found myself stepping out onto 14th street in Manhattan with a clear plastic bag that clearly held... an Xbox 360.
A number of thoughts should have hit me at this moment:
- "I should go back and see if they have non-see-through bags..."
- "Seriously, they sell alll kinds of shit people would want to steal - you'd think they'd have bags that don't scream, 'STEAL ME!'..."
- "Even if they don't, I could slip a few of their advertisements inside the bag - you know, to hide the giant 14 inch by 14 inch XBOX 360 logo that's hanging from my hand..."
At that point, I was faced with the less-than-ideal options of wandering around Union Square with an Xbox 360 dangling from my hand while looking for an ATM or trusting The Fates, Fortuna and/or Odin and getting on the subway.
I chose the latter and instantly regretted it.
I was no sooner through the turnstile before I realized the bag was stretching and was about to break. At this point it hit me: I'm going to own this thing for no more than 11 minutes.
Like any intrepid blogger, though, I steeled myself for the experience, convinced it would make a thrilling tale for those of you who worked through the cat food sidebar, the tech debate and the incredibly mundane discussion of Circuit City packaging protocol - and are still with me at this point.
I told myself, "fuck it. I'm going to trust in human nature for once and just relax. And if it gets stolen, I'm going to go all Captain America on the thief and write about it for Drink at Work."
Just for you, loyal reader, I braved a veritable Underworld of loathsome characters, all gunning for my prized, tax-windfall toy...
Like Cerberus himself, a three-headed Peruvian band (with, less supernaturally, three bodies) greeted me at the ramp to the L-train.
Fortunately, I managed to pass by their six eyes un-noticed, as they closed them to pipe their haunting tunes...
No sooner had I dodged my Andean nemeses than I faced my own Charon, an old, blind Polish man playing the accordion at the bottom of the steps, attempting to distract me from my precious cargo...
Finally, horror of horrors, as the L train arrived and pulled me deeper into my subterranean hell, I met Persephone herself.
She's a writer or a video artist or something like that, and she lives in my neighborhood. Anyway, she pointed at my conspicuous cargo and asked why I picked the Xbox 360 over the PS3. I was a bit thrown off, but I managed to mumble, "um... personally, I went for the system with more games..."
(OK, I never got her name, so I'm not sure her name was Persephone, but there's a chance, right?)
Folks, it wasn't until I got home that I realized how disappointed I was - I didn't come close to getting mugged.
I took the fucking New York City subway on a busy Sunday afternoon, dangling an Xbox 360 in a too-crappy-to-be-believed see-through Circuit City bag, and all I could get out of it was a contrived underworld/Hades metaphor.
Shit.
What a letdown...
I was really hoping to come back all fired up on adrenaline, stunned that my ill-timed, new faith in humanity had been disappointed.
I was going to beat myself up for your amusement, frustrated that I fell for the one-guy-bumps-into-you-then-his-friend-grabs-your-bag trick...
I was going to recall, in slow-motion memory, how the hipster next to me said, "whoa, man! That guy just grabbed your Xbox and ran!"
I was going to tell you how I tried to chase the guy - I really did - but he handed it off to another guy, and dammit, they knew exactly what they were doing...
Later, I was going to respond to all of your comments, about how you wouldn't have let that shit happen and how dumb I was and how if only I knew Brazilian jiu-jitsu I could have at least taken my aggressions out on the "whoa, man!" hipster...
Instead, I'm sitting here, still somewhat surprised I got the thing home.
Now, the only real question remains:
Do I really want to spend all afternoon setting this thing up while there are mint juleps just waiting across the street?
posted by Matt at 2:50 PM
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2 Comments:
I will say this.. Playing video games while sipping mint juleps (or bourbon in any form) is only suprassed by playing video games and getting incredibly stoned.
On second thought, maybe I'm glad I didn't get a chance to go all Captain America on the theif...
http://movies.msn.com/movies/article.aspx?news=254264>1=7701
I'm pretty sure the Patriot Act has something to say about that.
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