The Arcade is a holdout from my childhood. Once upon a time, it was the Full Enchilada: a bustling miniature golf, bumper boat, and race cart wonderland PLUS arcade and pizza parlor. Yeah, my hometown had quite the diamond mine in the Enchilada, and locals still recall fond memories from its heyday in the '80s and '90s. Over time, trends changed as did the business ownership, and its popularity waned so much that slowly the outdoor amusements were shuttered with only the lucrative pizza parlor/arcade combo keeping the venture afloat. “The Arcade,” as it’s simply known now, seems to thrive well enough with Friday nights open until midnight. Such being a night, my lifelong friend who never moved away, LG, and I decided to go in for the nostalgia experience since I was back in town visiting. Our decision went quickly over the phone earlier today.

"It's no more quarters. You just pay a flat admission. $12, and play all you want!" LG explained and convinced me easily.

"That’s a serious dream-come-true! Well, you know, '80s dream-come-true. I’m in!"

So, we met up at what was basically our twelve-year-olds' haunt. They were all there, frozen in time: Elevator Action, Joust, Super Mario Bros., all the Pac-Mans but especially Ms. Pac-Man, Burgertime, Pole Position, Frogger, Q-Bert, and Donkey Kong, besides a host of others including the Mortal Kombat “fight to the death”-variety. We fanned out amongst the busy crowd, a mixture of kids and older generations of gamers. I lingered on Centipede, eyeing one nearby that wasn’t on my radar as a kid but is now: Tetris. It was one of those games I played on Nintendo but never in an actual arcade; such a simple premise yet totally obsessive/compulsive-inducing with leveling out lines made up of four connected puzzle blocks in varying patterns. The old guy playing now appeared to have been there for decades. I hadn’t gotten to play at all since being there; every time I checked, Geezer was still at it. I checked my watch. Sheesh! Ten to midnight?! How does the time jump like that when you’re playing video games?

By now, most of the patrons had cleared out for the night, save for a few die-hards like LG, still glued to Space Invaders, me jonesying for a go at Tetris, and the geezer–Geezer–bogarting it. His 5 o'clock shadow was looking more like 2 am by the minute. "Last call was an hour ago, Old Man," I cracked to myself. Actually, there was something odd about that guy…you know when you get a bad feeling about someone? Heeby-jeebies. Maybe I just wanted him to stop freaking playing my game before The Arcade freaking closed; maybe he was a terrible player…person…who shouldn’t be playing Tetris all Friday night so no one else could play. Like me, who's a great player at home, but untried here, all because of—. Suddenly, he wheezed off and looked directly at me, trying to be casual two games down while making internal disparaging remarks about him simultaneously. Maybe it was my game instincts misfiring, but it gave me a start, my elbow missed the edge of TRON which made me cover by raking my hair and standing up straighter. I felt slightly bad for judging him, in case he was some kind of mugger on the outside, and gave him a curt nod.

"That one's a mesmerizer," he mumbled, shaking his head, appearing not to notice my reaction. I thought I smelled alcohol on his breath as he shuffled past me toward the exit. Eight minutes 'til midnight. I could totally play a few rounds before the Arcade People kicked us out.

As I looked into my last game of the night, LG drew a stool over to watch. "Space Invaders finally beat me. 'Game Over.' I took it as a sign. Done for the night. Tet-ris, ah." He shook his head when I motioned for him to play two-player.

"This game was completely addictive at home," I said, clicking the one-player option.

LG agreed, "They all are, especially when you just need 'one more chance, just one more time.'"

A voice in the overhead speaker crackled, "The Arcade will be closing in five minutes." The '80s hit music did not resume, which made the game noise a bit stark and tinny in the dawn of new quiet. I didn’t care; my midnight rendezvous with Tetris was on.

The first six levels were a non-issue, and the little Russian man character was somehow more than an eight-bit dancer. He was a techno demigod in the window, both challenging and congratulating me. I was in the "zone," and possibly on my way to Top 10 initials status—the dopamine rushing around my brain assured me I was to be unbeatable. I was just starting to ponder a career as a video gamer when, Level Seven, for some reason, thwarted me. A wall of blocks, game over, no Top 10 leaderboard. I don’t know what happened; it’s not like Level Seven is hard.

"Time to go?" LG yawned and flexed his playing fingers.

Three minutes to midnight. "Hold on."

I pushed play again. I just needed to get past Level Seven to declare personal victory. The blocks were halfway up the screen, but with four, three, two lines left to achieve, I was almost guaranteed the win. That’s when things went haywire again. The Russian guy, or whoever, was sending me all the wrong block combinations. Boom! A wall. "Game Over."

"Welp. That's that, win some, lose some," LG intoned hopping off the stool. That's when we looked around at the screens of all the games. All carried the same message in flashing red letters…

GAME OVER.

On the glass of the Tetris game, I caught a reflection of a confused LG, myself, and then, some movement over my shoulder: Geezer. I whirled around.

And that’s when the lights went out.