There are certain places on this Earth that no adult human being has any use for. One of those places, I have discovered, is the Reno Chuck E. Cheese pizza restaurant.
Not all Chuck E. Cheese locations are this way. When I was in college, I attended a friend's birthday party at this Chuck E. Cheese place in San Jose. We all had a blast, because the rides and games and play equipment were mostly big enough for adults. We went crazy for several hours, ate some lame pizza and redeemed our prize tickets for matching plastic rings.
In retrospect, it has just become obvious to me why I didn't date that much in college.
Anyway, compared to the San Jose Chuck E. Cheese Palace, the Reno Chuck E. Cheese is a rat hole. It's like one-eighth the size of the one in San Jose, if that, and all the toys are too small for adults to play on.
I discovered this a few days ago when I attended the birthday party for the children of some friends of mine. Stephen is about to turn three; Natasha is going to turn two soon.
The long story short regarding this party: The kids had a blast, while the adults were either unimpressed or, in my case, mortified with fear.
The objects of my fear were the damn animatronic animals that "played" in the band in the restaurant's showroom. I don't remember the exact name of the "band" (I couldn't find its name or any of the characters' names on the Chuck E. Cheese Web site, and I wasn't taking notes at the birthday party because I am not THAT big of a goober). All I know is that they made me want to wet myself..
The lead singer was some female bird; the drummer looked like Luigi from the Mario Bros. video game; another band member, a purple, yellow-haired blob thing, looked like Grimace and Barney the Dinosaur's effeminate cousin. As they played their music, lip-syncing, their heads turning and their eyes blinking periodically, I had to resist an urge to open fire on them.
I was alarmed for this reason: As the animatronic figures moved, in a herky-jerky fashion, they occasionally seemed to look at each other knowingly, as if to say "WE WILL SOON LEAP OFF THE STAGE AND START GRABBING THE CHILDREN." They looked evil. Kind of like Congress.
But I digress. As much of the stupid robot band annoyed me, the Chuck E. Cheese employees impressed me. Let me say: These kids who work there did one helluva job, and they are not paid enough, no matter how much they make.
After working their butts off getting everyone pizzas and tokens and party favors and the like, three of the teen employees gathered in front of the "band" to perform. The employees announced the birthdays of Stephen and Natasha, everyone applauded, and the employees broke into a dance.
The song, played by the freakish animatronic band, went something like this:
I say happy, you say birthday. Happy BIRTHDAY! Happy BIRTHDAY!
The teen employees would say "happy," and the assembled crowd had to yell "birthday." As the employees did this, they danced around. Clearly, they had to practice; this was NOT an easy dance. The employee on the left, a girl, danced just fine. The employee on the right, a boy, almost danced a little too well. And the boy in the middle looked completely lost.
After they did their jig, they told the kids to call out for Chuck E. The children yelled and screamed, and after a delay -- I am not making this up -- out he walked: someone in a fat rat costume, dressed in a tuxedo. The way Chuck E. walked out, slowly and deliberately, it appeared he had drank too much schnapps in the back room.
Anyway, the Head Rat himself wandered out, leaned himself up against the stage, and stared off into space. We were then ordered by a teen employee (the really good dancer) to do the song again, where they said happy and we said birthday.
We did it, and the employee asked Chuck E. if that was good enough. Like a stoned mob figure, Chuck E. said nothing, staring off into space. I think he was supposed to shake his head; he didn't.
"Um, I think he wants us to do it again," the employee said.
I say happy, you say birthday. Happy BIRTHDAY! Happy BIRTHDAY!
The employee asked Chuck E. if that was good enough. This time, he actually got a response: The rat shook his head "no" after a brief delay. So we did it one more time, screaming BIRTHDAY loud enough for us to be heard in Ely. That was good enough for Chuck E., and he wandered back into the back room, probably to get some more liquor.
That was enough for me. I said my goodbyes and left. And I swear that as I was leaving, the Italian-looking drummer in the animatronic band was glaring at me.
I don't remember getting such a glare at the Chuck E. Cheese in San Jose.
Jimmy Boegle is a fifth-generation Nevadan who thinks purple, monster/dinosaur-like figures are inherently evil. His column appears here Tuesdays, and he can be reached via e-mail at jiboegle@stanfordalumni.org.