That's it - We're going home
I walked into a Toys 'R Us store the other day for the first time since "He-Man" was the hottest cartoon on the planet. I won't get into why I was there, but I will say that I am currently a Godfather two times over, and my Godsons don't necessarily accept Best Buy gift cards.
Since it had been so long since I had walked through those hallowed automatic doors, I was fairly intimidated upon entering the store. For one, my mom wasn't with me, which was a first. Secondly, I had no idea where to go, plus I was wearing a tie, which signified that I DID grow up, and was no longer a Toys 'R Us kid - a fear of my youth that had come to pass.
As I walked around aimlessly for what seemed like several hours, a thought occured to me. All of these years I was under the impression that this store was a happy and festive place. After all, it was filled with toys. And when I walked in, I had expected to see Geoffrey the Giraffe galloping about with a bunch of excited kids, while the more well-to-do children rode around in automatic Tonka trucks that probably got better gas mileage than my own, real truck. But after I realized that giraffes don't gallop, I was reminded that Toys 'R Us itself actually exists as a means to experience inevitable disappointment, no matter what your age. This fact was evidenced by the various phrases I heard throughout my wanderings down the aisles:
Put that down!
Wheres your sister?
Put your sister down!
Im leaving! Are you staying here? Fine! Well see what your father thinks about THAT when he gets home!
But Billy's mom bought him one!
Do you wanna go live with Billy's mom, cause that's fine with me!
I'm not paying that much for a piece of plastic. Put it back.
I think I made stinky in my pants.
Put it back.
You can ask Santa Claus for that.
F@#* Santa Claus!
WHAT DID YOU SAY!!!
Yes, any false nostalgia I had experienced from the outset of my errand was immediatley dashed once reality set in. I was having flashbacks of getting dragged back into the parking lot, driving home in silence, and then hiding in my room - with no new toys - dreading the moment the clock hit 4:30 p.m., when dad usually got home from work.
Anyway, I didn't find anything in the store, mainly because I didn't recognize any of the toys, and couldn't afford 95 percent of them. But some good came out of it anyway, in that I'm finally content that I'm no longer a Toys 'R Us kid, and Best Buy has Elmo videos.
Since it had been so long since I had walked through those hallowed automatic doors, I was fairly intimidated upon entering the store. For one, my mom wasn't with me, which was a first. Secondly, I had no idea where to go, plus I was wearing a tie, which signified that I DID grow up, and was no longer a Toys 'R Us kid - a fear of my youth that had come to pass.
As I walked around aimlessly for what seemed like several hours, a thought occured to me. All of these years I was under the impression that this store was a happy and festive place. After all, it was filled with toys. And when I walked in, I had expected to see Geoffrey the Giraffe galloping about with a bunch of excited kids, while the more well-to-do children rode around in automatic Tonka trucks that probably got better gas mileage than my own, real truck. But after I realized that giraffes don't gallop, I was reminded that Toys 'R Us itself actually exists as a means to experience inevitable disappointment, no matter what your age. This fact was evidenced by the various phrases I heard throughout my wanderings down the aisles:
Put that down!
Wheres your sister?
Put your sister down!
Im leaving! Are you staying here? Fine! Well see what your father thinks about THAT when he gets home!
But Billy's mom bought him one!
Do you wanna go live with Billy's mom, cause that's fine with me!
I'm not paying that much for a piece of plastic. Put it back.
I think I made stinky in my pants.
Put it back.
You can ask Santa Claus for that.
F@#* Santa Claus!
WHAT DID YOU SAY!!!
Yes, any false nostalgia I had experienced from the outset of my errand was immediatley dashed once reality set in. I was having flashbacks of getting dragged back into the parking lot, driving home in silence, and then hiding in my room - with no new toys - dreading the moment the clock hit 4:30 p.m., when dad usually got home from work.
Anyway, I didn't find anything in the store, mainly because I didn't recognize any of the toys, and couldn't afford 95 percent of them. But some good came out of it anyway, in that I'm finally content that I'm no longer a Toys 'R Us kid, and Best Buy has Elmo videos.
Comments