For my thirteenth birthday, I wracked my brain for places that would be suitable to take a group of about ten of my friends. After two or three weeks of contemplation, settling on Bullwinkle’s sounded like the easiest fix for the situation. Bullwinkle’s, after all, is a place enjoyed by most people and would have some attraction to please every member in my party.

When my party guests had all come and we were sitting down to pizza in the ever-so-dorky eating area as the seating hostess informed us about where the games were and how to check in for laser tag and miniature golf. Along with telling us what we could do, she also told us the one thing that was off limits. The children’s towering play structure and ball pit were apparently for those under ten. This was all well for nine out of ten of my friends who by the age of thirteen had long since abandoned the passion for padded metal and the mysterious smell of neon-plastic balls. However one of my friends insisted that we bend the rules and sneak into the room and possibly tease a few little kids.

I fought long and hard for a loosing battle, saying things like “come on, I know you’re more in to laser tag” and, “There isn’t so much time to get in go carts and all the arcade games”. Sadly there was no use trying to stop her, she dragged me by the arm into the iridescent room full of parents and their headache inducing children to climb the play structure. I inquired as to how she would fool the overseeing staff member on duty and all she said was “Just watch and play along”.

She began do flail her arms in a sickening unnatural way and beat them against her chest while making horrible noises I can only assume were attempted squeals of joy. Drool pooled on her chin and then I realized what she was doing. She ran a floppy path to the entrance of the tower, maniacally kicked off her shoes and dove. I caught her arm just in time telling her no, while the surrounding parents looked at me in a way as if to say “that poor child, see what that girl is doing to her!” The staff on guard looked at me incredulously as well and aghast I looked up at him and said, “She’s thirteen.” To which he most abruptly responded, “We, bend the rules a little to fit people’s needs.”

After spending about fifteen minutes chasing my temporarily retarded friend around the top stories of a kiddy play structure, we called it quits. Not so long after that, laser tag was over and my friends drank their fill of go-cart induced high. Today, I no longer have the presents and I haven’t been to Bullwinkle’s in a couple years, but the image of my friend running in a floppy path will forever be burned into my memory.