April 14, 2008
Chuck E. Cheese is the Devil Incarnate
We don’t have a Chuck E. Cheese restaurant (arcade? waste of money? place where parents go to die a slow, painful death?) in our town. The nearest one is an hour away in the city of Appleton. We had never gone to one before. Now I completely understand why. It’s hell on Earth, and I experienced this hell on Saturday.
Dawson loves The Backyardigans and he had watched the cartoon version of The Tale of the Mighty Knights at least a million times via Charter On Demand, so being the good mommy that I am, I bought tickets to The Backyardigans Live! on Ticketmaster.
The show would be at the Performing Arts Center in Appleton and I decided to invite my mom to come along. In my head the day would be perfect. We’d head out early and do some shopping at the Fox River Mall, maybe check out a few thrift stores before the performance and then afterward we’d take Dawson to Chuck E. Cheese.
Dawson had been begging to go to the house of the mouse for months, because a little girl at his daycare had been talking about her visit on her 4th birthday. Add to this a million Chuck E. commercials illustrating how much fun he would have, Dawson was raring to go. His excitement was rather endearing.
“Mommy! Dawson going to Chunkie Cheese’s! I go see the place for kids!” He grinned from ear to ear. I couldn’t deny him any longer.
The Backyardigans Live! was great! Due to repetition from the television show, we knew all the lyrics to every song our colorful back yard pals sang.
Dawson’s favorite character is Tyrone (the moose) and he watched intently as the brave knights guarded the spotted egg per King Pablo’s command.
I loved the Flighty Fairy, Tasha (the hippo), the best. She had a magic wand that could grant any wish. (I wished for a million dollars in my bank account. I’m still waiting for that large deposit to show up on my statement.) Even my mom had a great time. She loved watching Dawson’s facial expressions as he watched the show.
After it was over we made our way to the parking garage and squeezed our way into the line of cars exiting the structure.
Once we got to Chuck E’s, we saw the millions of cars in the parking lot and figured several other parents had the same idea.
To kill some time we went to T.J. Maxx. I bought a brand new bag. It’s hot. Wanna see?
Isn’t she gorgeous?
Dawson managed to con Grandma into buying him a Spider Man motorcycle toy. He just batted his eyelashes and she said, “Why certainly, love bug!”
He wasn’t able to convince her to buy my $60 bag, however. When I batted my eyelashes and she said, “It’s not so cute at age 29, you know.” It was worth a shot, right?
We were in the Maxx for maybe an hour and then ventured back across the street where the Cheese was located.
It looked less busy so we headed inside. Big mistake. Picture millions of half-pints rudely running around and pushing people over.
Even adults were losing their balances as they tried to step aside while 23 4-year-olds scurried over to the Hammer Head Shark game. I felt my blood pressure rise instantly. It got worse when I discovered the price of a pizza.
We made a plan not to eat here. We’d buy some tokens, let Dawson play games until he couldn’t take it anymore, then we’d go back to the mall food court. It was a plan.
My blood pressure went through the roof when I discovered the cost of tokens. I stuck a $20 dollar bill into the machine and it coughed up 105 little gold coins. This would be enough, right?
Wrong.
After an hour and a half of playing that same Hammer Head Shark game, trying (not very patiently, mind you) to teach a 31/2-year-old how to play skee ball, doing my best to keep the other kleptomaniac children from stealing Dawson’s tokens and tickets, and maneuvering through crowds of kids and parents, I’d had enough. Dawson, however, did not want to leave. He wanted to take a ride in Chuck E.’s car.
Don’t even ask me where Grandma went. I assumed she disappeared to the corner of the restaurant, safe from the ear piercing screams of the many 5-year-old girls celebrating their friend’s birthday party. Although it would not have surprised me if she ditched us for the craft store down the block. She’s no dummy, that one.
I bought $10 more in tokens (if only to avoid a temper tantrum from Dawson) and prayed for the Flighty Fairy to turn me deaf, just for an hour, so that I couldn’t hear the shouting parents as they tried to commandeer their children out the door.
Not a moment later, I got my wish when a woman with a very thick southern accent standing next to me screamed (directly into my ear) at her son, “Jer-a-maaaaay! How many tahms do ah have to till yuuuue not to kick yer sister? If yuuuue don’t liss-ann to may raght now, your bottom is gonne be rawr after ahm don wit you!”
The loudness of this woman’s yell was equivalent to ten Boeing 747s. I could hear no longer. Suddenly, I lost my balance as little Jeremy knocked me over while running from his mother. I fell to the floor and covered my head, not sure what was going to happen next. Finally my mother made her way over to me.
“What are you doing in the fetal position?” she asked.
“Must leave. Now. Blood pressure sky rocketing. Children everywhere. Devils. All of them.” My head was spinning.
I grabbed Dawson and told him it was time to go. The world’s biggest temper tantrum ensued. How dare I demand to leave this magical place for children!
“DAWSON NO WANT TO LEEEEEEEEAVE!”
Somehow I convinced Dawson to walk with me to cash in the 580 tickets we had collected. When I saw the ridiculous prize choices, I almost reamed the teenager working behind the counter. Dawson chose some sort of video game that he’d never learn to play (until he’s at least “ages 6 and up”) and we had to pay $5 for the difference. Basically, I spent $35 dollars on a game that cost barely $10. A total rip-off.
I took one photo of Dawson from our misadventure. A photo of him whining. So that I’ll remember for next time, why there’ll never be a “next time”.
Thankfully, Mr. Cranky fell asleep on the hour-long car ride home. I love the sound of silence.
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