Imagine 20 grimy 8-year-old kids clustered around a cocktail Pong machine in complete silence, staring. Two paddles, a ball and a dotted line held us transfixed. The appearance of nothing less than an actual, naked woman could have broken our concentration. I do not recall how long we stood there, but I think a few of us actually hit puberty. At some point, the fateful words were spoken.
Anybody got a quarter?
We watched with trepidation as two brave souls, adventurers even, sat down and played Pong. The game started. We dared not breathe as a white square bounced across the screen, making funny bloop noises whenever it hit anything. The game ended quickly (we sucked at Pong even worse than we sucked at soccer). The two players stared at each other. We stared at them. Other people quite possibly were staring at us.
All hell broke loose.
Tomorrow, the story continues!!!
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