I should have brought some playing cards. Though great for filling time, books would have drawn stares and awkward questions about ‘antisocial behavior.’ The copious amount of spilt beer, BBQ sauce, and oyster juice nixed my iPad. Hell, even my cell phone was about to die, reminding me every two minutes to search for a nonexistent outlet. Boredom played on my brain like a death march. Thus, we arrive at the missing playing cards.
Patrick’s father-in-law had invited Kevin and me to a stag bull and oyster roast at an American Legion lodge across town. Forty-one tables (I counted) of over-weight blue-collar men filling Styrofoam plates with stacks of pit beef, pork, and German sausage, draining pitchers of cheap beer, and slurping brine-soaked mollusks. After an hour, I was ready to sneak out to my favorite bookstore or Gamestop.
Recently, I had invested in amiibos, little interactive statuettes of my favorite Nintendo characters, which I can then train on my Wii U to fight other amiibos in Super Smash Bros. What I had first conceived of as a marketing gimick has grown into an obsession. Matches in our house decide what we watch come movie night (always go with the animated flick) or what we drink (as long as it fits in my mason Renaissance goblet, I’m game). I recently trained my Toon Link to level 50, what is essentially a badass, and plan to use him to cremate Dasad’s Sonic the Hedgehog . . .