Have you ever had that feeling that something awful was about to
happen? Something so terrible that it will devastate you and your
family and possibly the city in which you live? I have. And its
name is Chuck E. Cheese.
Have you ever had that feeling that something awful was about to happen? Something so terrible that it will devastate you and your family and possibly the city in which you live? I have. And its name is Chuck E. Cheese.
And it’s coming to Gilroy.
Yes, that’s right. I read it in this very newspaper. Chuck E. Cheese is coming here. I can’t think of anything worse. Oh, OK. Maybe a storm of locusts or something. But Chuck E. Cheese is pretty horrifying.
You see, once Chuck E. plants his giant mice feet here – I will have to go there. A lot. Now, from a child’s perspective, it’s the greatest place on Earth. There are tubes, ball pits, pizza, arcade games and prizes. And Chuck and his friends give a free concert every hour or so. It’s a dream come true for people under 12.
But to a parent, Chuck E. Cheese is filled with terror.
First you have the tubes. They’re very high in the air and every few feet or so there’s window – presumably so that you can track your child’s progress. But as every parent knows, kids go in the tubes – and don’t always come back out.
And that means one thing. You have to go in after them.
Unfortunately, the tubes are child sized. And most parents are a bit larger. Look, my butt alone is the size of a well-nourished 3-year old. There’s a very strong possibility that I will be stuck inside the tubes forever. My fear is that one day, Junior will disappear inside the tubes and I’ll have to go up to find him. And I’ll require the entire Gilroy Fire Department and the Jaws of Life to get me out.
Then there are the ball pits. Have you ever wondered what’s under the balls? I’m telling you, I have been in my stocking feet in those pits. And something squishy lives there. Something really, really squishy.
And I’m afraid of it. Very afraid.
I figure that since about a billion kids have been in the pit, the bottom is filled with smashed up boogers, old gum, a few socks, melted candy bars and, ickiest of all, old diapers. Frankly, I get the shivers just thinking about the ball pit.
Of course, kids love it. They sink their little feet deep into the abyss – I mean, pit – and toss balls at each other. Which would be fine, but you just know somebody is going to get hurt and that means that you, the parent, have to rush into the ball pit, squish around and rescue your child.
And of course, there is Chuck E. himself. He’s a 5-foot tall mouse with an abnormally large head. Toddlers run from him in terror. But the older kids want to sit as close as possible to the stage where Chuck and his pals put on a concert. Now, I admit that isn’t nearly as bad as the tubes or the ball pit. In fact, I’ve even enjoyed Chuck E. and his musical friends.
I guess Chuck E. does have redeeming qualities. On a rainy afternoon, Chuck E. Cheese provides a place for kids to play, instead of asking for the millionth time when the rain will end. And they serve beer and wine – a big plus in my book, especially if I’ve been in the ball pit.
So maybe Chuck E. Cheese isn’t so bad after all. But just in case, the GFD should keep those Jaws of Life handy. You never know when I’m going to get stuck in a tube.
