I have been to Hell and back

Wow. This weekend was really one for the record books. After all these years of people telling me to go to Hell, I finally went. Not voluntarily, of course, and obviously I managed to escape, but even still I went....and now I shall tell you about it.

Chuck E. Cheese's is Hell. No, no, it's not like Hell, or even hellish....Chuck E. Cheese's really is Hell. Indisputably, without a doubt, Hell.

Saturday afternoon, my daughter's friend/colleague's kid/whiney, miserable, offensive little bitch (henceforth known as WMOLB) had a 7th birthday party at a Chuck E. Cheese's somewhere in the 4 outer boroughs. I am no fan of kiddie birthday parties, but far be it from me to limit my child's social life, so we dropped by Toys'R'Us last week and picked up some ridiculously overpriced gift for WMOLB, and headed off to the party Saturday. However, if I'd known then what I know now, I'd gladly risk the chance of the girl growing into a socially-stunted spinster with 50 cats, helmet hair, and a brown cardigan sweater to stay as far the fuck away from Chuck E. Cheese's as I can possibly get.

Call me sheltered, call me a bad parent, call me what you will, but before this weekend, I had never set foot inside a Chuck E. Cheese's. I had no need to. I do not eat pizza. My daughter does eat pizza, but she's just as happy eating it someplace where there aren't any rank-smelling, paedophilic costumed characters crawling up her arse as she does so. I am also not terribly fond of anyplace that touts itself as a restaurant-cum-amusement park, as I see the whole thing as a gigantic choking hazard, as well as a big freaking mess looking for a place to happen. But hey, I thought, a few hours worth of a birthday party....how bad could it be?

Answer - worse than I'd ever imagined.

Basically, nothing I say or show you here could do this place justice....you really have to see it for yourself to get the full effect of the horror of it all. But picture if you will a place brimming over with screaming, crying, giggling, food-hurling, greasy-napkin-throwing, straw-shooting, ADHD-riddled rugrats hopped up on sugar, caffeinated soda, and whateverthefeck that orange goopy shit all over all the food might be. Picture their parents, who are basically larger (and in some cases slightly more lecherous) versions of same. Picture filthy restrooms, filthy tables, filthy chairs/benches, and filthy floors, mentally retarded staff, inedible food, and 'entertainment' equipment that even looks dangerous from halfway across the goddamn room. And of course, the image would not be complete without maybe 10 escaped convicts with really poor personal hygiene walking around in rat costumes.

I'm telling you, if I ever needed an incentive to go back to Manhattan, this here is it. The city proper may be a rude, unfriendly, stress-fuelled place....but goddamn it all to hell, man....at least they haven't got a Chuck E. Cheese's.