The Party Never Stops at Chuck E. Cheese's

The balls smell like urine.

Red. Blue. Green. Yellow. Orange.

Each and every one smells like urine. But the kids don't seem to mind what they smell like so long as they can still chase each other, wrestle, pretend to swim, and hide in the depths of the infamously dirty ball pit. God knows what lay at the bottom of this wretched incubator of disease. Another kid shoots out of the yellow tube slide and takes out his friend. A wrestling match ensues chock full of hair pulling, eye-gouging, and shirt ripping. Hellions.

Welcome to Chuck E. Cheese's.

You go to school, do your chores, eat your veggies. Now, there's a place you do nothing but have fun! Chuck E. Cheese's! Play! Win! Eat! Choose! You can do it all! And do it again! Chuck E. Cheese's! It's awesome! It's incredible! It's practically unstoppable! Chuck E. Cheese's...

I haven't been to Chuck E. Cheese's since the first grade, and I'm making a comeback for my little cousin's birthday party, the big four. Unlike my fellow adult partygoers, I fully intend on partying like a four year old again. Time to rock out.

I stumble from the ball pit and wipe myself clean of the filth, trying to find my dignity. It's pizza time. The staff comes out of the kitchen with several large pizzas. A peppy, babyface twenty-something dude reminiscent of the waiter in the movie Office Space brings us our drinks. His name is Scooter. His energy is brilliant and his chirpy, boyish voice resounds through our private party room in a way that I find annoying. He's persistent about bringing out the birthday cake. No one is happy with him. There goes your hefty gratuity. Whatever, it's video game time.

I strap onto a fake motorcycle and play an incredibly unrealistic racing game. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a little boy absolutely killing it in Skee Ball. When the game ends, his jackpot is hefty. High-roller. He's definitely getting a bunch of miniature paratroopers or Chinese finger traps from the prize counter. Bitchin'. The 25 feet of tickets spewing from the machine attracts much attention from the children surrounding him. In come the sharks. A little toehead sneaks behind him and tries to steal his tickets. The boy catches the thief and throws him to the ground. Here comes mom. She parts the two feuding Chuck E. Cheese gladiators and drags the toehead boy off to their table, spanking him all the way. Bummer, dude.

I tire of the lame video games and venture towards the "stage." On the "stage," where a giant grey mouse, a sad looking dog wearing a fedora, a ditzy sounding duck, a disturbing mutation of a hippo , the popular television character, Barney, and an Italian pizza maker mechanically dance and sing some ridiculous tune. Creepy. A little girl dances to the right of me. She is totally oblivious to the outside world and so caught up in the moment of the creepy singing puppets, resembling a girl at a rave party tripping on ecstasy. Give it ten years. Hands raised in the air, she hops around totally out of synch with the music. I admire her freedom.

The children start to disappear to find various places to fall asleep. Chairs. Floor. Plastic Tubes. Ball pit. Too much sugar and partying. The place begins to clear out until it is just our small party is left. The creepy band continues to play their songs of fun and happiness. Scooter energetically cleans the tables with an ear-to-ear grin. The odd sounds of video games continue to pump through the building like a carnival. Ding. Ding. Bzzzz. Rnnng.

The party never stops.